They Say It's Your Birthday
by 96 Hubbles
Summary: Stuff happens. Some funny and some terrible. I cordially invite you to read and find out. Warnings: some language and a spoiler for episode 4x03 in the first chapter.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Wish it was. But still, this effort is not meant to reflect on the creative work of others. In simpler terms, other people came up with these characters and write them far better than I do, so if you don't like the story, give the show a shot anyway._

**They Say It's Your Birthday**

_One fine day Arthur has cause to ask a question..._

"Merlin, when's your birthday?"

Merlin looked up from the corner where he was polishing Arthur's armour. "Sire?"

"Your birthday, _Mer_lin. I presume you do have one."

Merlin cocked his head to the side, one corner of his mouth quirking with a combination of amusement and perplexity. "Well, truthfully Arthur, I don't."

Arthur finally looked up from the paperwork on his table to regard his servant with some confusion. Then he snorted. "I suppose this means it falls to me to explain the facts of life to you. You see, Merlin, when a man and woman love each other very much, they partake in certain… _activities_, the result of which is that nine months later the woman gives _birth _to a child, and usually on a specific _day_ as opposed to some vague period outside of worldly time, hence the word _birthday_."

Merlin rolled his eyes as he went back to polishing Arthur's armour once more. "I know what a birthday is, you bloody great clot-pole. I just don't have one."

"Merlin, unless you're telling me you were hatched - though that is something I wouldn't be too astonished to learn, considering what a chicken-hearted individual you are - as I've just explained, _everyone has a birthday. _ It is, in fact, logically impossible for you not to have one. Especially as I've met your mother, and therefore know you didn't just coalesce out of thin air one awful day."

Merlin was getting truly exasperated now. "Of course I was _born_. I just don't know on what _day_. Therefore, since I don't know my birthday, from a practical sense - which I forgive you for not understanding, as practicality is something you've never had to become acquainted with - works out to be the same as not having one."

"Merlin, you fantastic idiot, how can you be so dull-witted as to not remember your own birthday?"

Though he couldn't quite see his face, Arthur could tell Merlin had just rolled his eyes again. "It's not that I don't remember, dollop-head - I've never known it," the servant replied.

Arthur was actually stunned. The scathing, teasing tone disappeared from his voice and he asked in genuine confusion, "How could you not know what day you were born? Didn't your mother ever tell you?"

"She didn't know."

So taken aback by this, it actually took Arthur a couple of seconds to form his next question, "What do you mean your mother didn't know? Surely to goodness a woman would find giving birth a remarkable enough experience to consider taking note of the day! And certainly _your_ mother would be aware of the day the general horror in her life began."

Merlin sighed and stopped polishing again. "You really don't know what it's like, do you, Arthur?"

"What nonsense on you on about this time, _Mer_lin?"

"In the outside world, Sire," Merlin explained slowly, waving the hand still holding the rag around vaguely towards the window. "It's not like we're all born in a palace, Arthur," he went on, as if to a small child. "Or even a city."

"What's that got to do with anything, Merlin?" the Prince demanded.

"What I mean is, we don't all have clerics and scholars and court astrologers telling us what day it is. Sometimes wandering ones will come by to announce the special Feast days and such, but the rest of the time we live by the seasons. Most people spend their entire lives not having any general idea of the date."

Arthur stared at his servant with wide eyes and Merlin was sure that only years of having etiquette beaten into to him kept the blond man's mouth from gaping like a fish's.

"Oh dear, I've broken your brain, haven't I?" Merlin said sympathetically.

"I…I… _What are you talking about, Merlin!__"_Arthur practically shouted. He felt like an idiot; of course what Merlin was saying made perfect sense, and he should have known it without even thinking. But knowing what _day_ it was, having a name to put to the present moment, was so utterly fundamental to his sense of things that it shook him in some indefinable way to find others lived without it. And to not even know what day you were born on… Arthur almost felt as if he had looked up and only foolishly noticed for the very first time that Merlin had lame foot or was missing his nose.

Embarrassed by his outburst though, Arthur quickly drew himself up, put on his best semblance of haughty-I-am-the-Prince-and-you-are-a-particularly-idiotic-worm, and inquired dangerously, "Tell me, are you having a fit of some kind, Merlin? Because you couldn't _possibly _be laughing at your master, now could you."

"Oh no, _Sire! _No, no!" Merlin protested. "I could never laugh at _you!__"_ It was a denial, however, which might have been slightly more effective if the one making it hadn't fallen backwards clutching at his stomach as he cackled breathlessly.

"MERLIN!"

"Y…y …yes, Arthur?" Merlin stammered, still overcome.

"How is it you're the fool who doesn't know when his own birthday is, and you still think I'm the idiot?"

"I can't change the essential facts of nature, Prat," Merlin answered, wiping a mirthful tear from his eye.

_It wasn__'__t that funny, _Arthur fumed for a moment, but then he sighed dramatically and decided that he would be the bigger man and play the benevolent ruler, even if meant tolerating once more the daily torment of his intellectually hampered manservant.

"Getting back to the matter at hand…" he began, waving imperiously at Merlin to collect himself.

Merlin instantly became serious. Well, except for a slight twitch about the mouth.

"So you have no idea at all of when your birthday is?" Arthur asked.

"Well, I have some idea. Mother said I was born in the winter."

Elbow on table, Arthur rested his head on his hand and regarded his servant wearily. "In the winter, was it. You couldn't narrow that down any, I suppose?"

Merlin looked back at him, truly puzzled this time and asked what should have been his first question. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because, as pointless as it seems, information is required about you for the Court Records."

"Really? Are you telling me I'm going to go down in the history books somewhere?"

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and wondered why every simple conversation with his manservant had to be so painful. "I can't imagine _any_ circumstance under which you'd go down in history, Merlin. No, this is simply for our various records. You know, so that we know how many people in the castle we have to feed, and what they cost in terms of expenses or what taxes are needed. Or so there is some record of who you are and how old you are, so that in the event of Camelot falling down on your head - something I'd almost sacrifice the castle for right now - we'd be able to identify your body once we pulled it out of the rubble. You know, silly things like that."

"That's a bit gruesome for first thing in the morning, isn't it? And here I thought you were going to get me a present!"

"Merlin!"

"I mean, TAXES of all things! Doesn't a person have to get a wage first?"

"MERLIN!"

"Yes, Sire?"

"I swear, the first band of Romanys* that come through here this summer and I'm selling you to them."

"That sounds all right to me. I'm sure they have cleaner socks than you."

Arthur gritted his teeth. "Your birthday!"

Merlin grinned but decided to get back to the subject before his Prince's brain dissolved completely and started trickling out the royal ear. "Well," he started to say, thinking about it seriously, "I think I asked once and Mam said it just a little after the Druids celebrated the Winter Solstice. Less than a fortnight later, she guessed."

"So after the Yule Festival then?" Arthur said as he turned to his papers and wrote something down.

"I suppose so, though I don't know what's wrong with saying the Winter Solstice."

"I thought I'd go with something less-magical-tie-you-to-Druids-and-get-you-executed sounding."

"Oh. Oh! Yes, I guess that would be better," Merlin said and now it was Arthur's time to roll his eyes.

There the conversation ended for a little while. Merlin went back to his polishing, Arthur to his paperwork. Some time passed and though neither thought consciously on the idea, both of them found themselves content in their time in close proximity to one another, each quietly enjoying the bright Spring sunshine streaming in their the windows of the Prince's chambers.

Or they did at least until Arthur decided to ask another question.

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"Doesn't what bother me?" Merlin asked.

Arthur, benevolent and tolerant ruler of the afflicted went out the window and Arthur, hurler of ornate goblets jumped in to fill the breach.

"Oi!" Merlin exclaimed with irritation as the heavy cup pinged the top of his head.

"Quit being a girl, Merlin. That barely brushed your hair. Probably straightened the mess it's in, if anything."

"But what did you do it for?"

"You were being a pain."

"No I wasn't!"

"You were! You know perfectly well what I was asking."

"Arthur, it may surprise you to learn that other people don't just put their minds on hold and stop existing until the next demand comes out of your mouth. I was thinking my own thoughts, so how could I know what was going on in your head? It's hard enough to figure out what's going to come out of that pea-sized brain even when I am paying attention."

"Fetch a guard, Merlin. I wish him to enlighten me as to whether the day is cold enough to make the stocks an adequate punishment, or warm enough that the stench in the Royal Stables would be more suitable."

Arthur caught some muttering about "moods shifting with the wind" and "he calls me a girl", but all Merlin said out loud was, "Fine, fine, your cabbage-headed-ness, what was it you wanted to know again?"

"Does. It. Bother. You. Not. Having. A. Birthday."

Merlin shrugged. "Not really. If you don't know what day it is, you don't really think about what days are coming up in the future, so most years I never even noticed it passing. And besides, it's not like we would have celebrated it, anyway."

Arthur frowned. "What do you mean?"

"It's not like my mother had the money to buy me a gift, or even really the time to make one. There usually wasn't enough food for a special meal of any kind and we couldn't stop work for the day, not when we wanted to survive the winter. You wouldn't believe how much time wood-cutting can take, for instance. Not to mention…" but then Merlin suddenly clamped his mouth shut and turned his eyes away from Arthur. He picked up the armour yet again and began polishing furiously.

"Not to mention…" Arthur prodded.

"Nothing."

"C'mon, Merlin. Tell me."

Merlin leapt to his feet, accidentally dropping Arthur's armour to the floor with a clang. "I think I'm done with this," he declared and Arthur was surprised to see that the younger man was strangely flustered. Not that Merlin getting over-excited about nothing was new, but still…

"That's as may be, but I still don't see the reason to throw it to the floor."

"Uh… sorry." Merlin picked it up quickly and strode swiftly out the door, murmuring something about getting the scrubbing bucket as he went.

Arthur stared after him for a few moments in confusion, but had already forgotten the entire incident by the time Merlin came back with a tray carrying the mid-day meal and not the bucket that he had gone out for.

A possible answer didn't occur to him until late that night after a meeting with his council, who had spent nearly the entire time urging available Princesses on him and droning on interminably about lineages in the process. As he lay in bed Arthur suddenly remembered that Merlin didn't have a father.

That his manservant was, technically, a bastard.

Arthur was used to the aching hole left an absent parent. So much so that he didn't usually bother to think beyond that when reflecting on another's lack. Therefore, it was for the first time that he considered how much more Merlin might have gone through. While he didn't have a mother, he at least knew who she was. She had a name to solidify her in Arthur's mind, and he even had a few reminiscences from his father and Gaius to give him some idea of what she was like.

But Merlin wouldn't have had that. He didn't even know his father's name, as far Arthur knew. More importantly, at least in terms of the day's conversation, he would have had to face a world of shame and ostracism that Arthur had never even dreamed of. And while Arthur had met Hunith and knew that she was both strong and loving enough to have likely wanted to celebrate her son's birthday anyway, if only given the means, Merlin's birthday might still have been a difficult time for both of them. People after all were seldom kind to fallen women and bastards.

Arthur rolled over, unable to sleep. He felt bad for making such an issue of Merlin's birthday and wished the entire subject had never come up. Accidental though it might have been, he had unthinkingly caused his servant genuine pain and that made him feel small and petty.

Plus, it bothered him that Merlin had never celebrated his birthday. That he had had no gifts, no day off from work, perhaps not even enough to eat. Arthur had never particularly enjoyed his own birthday - knowing he was the cause of his mother's death, not to mention his father's generally foul mood at that time of year had always dampened any pleasure he might have had - but he still felt suddenly guilty about the sheer excess that had been shown on every anniversary of his birth. True, his birthday was just as much a holiday for the people as it was (supposed to be) for him, but it still seemed... vain, somehow, to make such a fuss when most of his subjects (_including his best friend, _his barely noticed conscience supplied) didn't have a day of their own to even mark the passing of years.

Arthur made a promise to himself: the idiot, at least, would have a day. The Yule festival was more than half a year away, but, as he told Gwen the next morning, he was going to give Merlin a birthday!

"You mean a birthday gift?" she asked.

"That too," he said and left her looking confused as he strode off to the training grounds.

Unfortunately, for both peasants and Kings, life often has other plans. On Arthur's next birthday, his father King Uther was grievously stabbed, eventually leading to his death mere days later. The young Prince's resolution for a gift for his friend disappeared in the grief that his own birth was now the cause of not one, but both of his parents' deaths. Birthdays became a forbidden subject, and though some time after Gwen's coronation he decreed the Queen's birthday a holiday (for both his people and Gwen deserved it), by his orders his own birthday was never again to be mentioned. As to his servant's lack of one, it was completely forgotten by all, including the servant himself.

* * *

><p>*Gypsies<p>

_I__'__m hoping there will be a second part to this, where Merlin does get a birthday. I have an idea for it, but this part turned out so much longer than I expected (those boys will JUST NOT STOP ARGUING!), that now the couple of paragraphs I had envisioned for the next chapter seem woefully inadequate and anti-climactic. _

_So we__'__ll see I guess. Fingers crossed!_

_Also, I would sincerely like to thank everyone who responded to my last story, either by reviewing or putting it on their favourites list. I know I should reply to you all individually, but in case I don't, I want you, and all of those who might review this story, that I am very grateful to hear from you. Your reviews were, and are, very welcome and I'm flattered that you took the time. Thank you so much!  
><em>


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

><p>-x-<p>

Some years passed and many eventful things happened. Possibly the best one was this: Merlin revealed his magic and gained his freedom. And, as it turned out, the moment was as much a matter of destiny as everything else in the lives of the two of them.

"Well, it had to have been, hadn't it, prat?" Merlin would point out later. "We both had a lot of things to learn first."

Arthur reflected that this was undoubtedly true.

In any case, after a long (long, long, ever so unbelievably stupidly long, in Merlin's opinion) process of reasoning, consideration, discussion and being attacked by a half a hundred magical threats, Arthur changed his mind, and more importantly his heart, towards magic and decided to repeal the law on sorcery. Those who practiced it for ill intent would still be punished, but those who came before Arthur and declared their loyalty would be welcomed.

And while Merlin bristled a bit to Gaius about the requirement placed on those who had magic to proclaim their loyalty while any half-wit could wave a sword around without a word, and 'Oh, and what about those people who don't even know they have magic? What will happen to them if they're caught?', he also welcomed it. And, if he felt some trepidation, he did his best not to show it, for after all of this time he was tired of being afraid.

So, on the ordained day, Merlin Emrys walked down the length of the throne room to stand before his King, only to be asked:

"Well, Merlin, is there anyone waiting to come forward?"

Merlin raised his chin proudly and proclaimed: "Yes, Sire!"

"And where are they, idiot?"

"The first one is standing right before you, Sire!"

Arthur lifted an eyebrow, then rolled his eyes and sighed windily. "Merlin, this is no time for - " he began, only to be rendered speechless (along with the rest of those gathered) when all of the windows in the throne shattered inwards at the same moment, only for the shards to freeze, fly backwards and the windows be restored to their pristine state before a single piece of glass could hit the ground.

Utter silence reigned for a full two minutes.

The King swallowed audibly. "Um…" he said eloquently (for Kings always proclaim everything eloquently, as Arthur would later inform Merlin with a smack to the taller man's head).

The room was silent for yet another minute, not a sound issuing forth even when Merlin knelt before his King. Only two people were not too flabbergasted to hear Merlin's oath - Gaius, who was smiling radiantly on the scene, and Merlin himself, who was only saved from being smug at the general reaction by being too quiveringly ecstatic.

Still the Court stared at him with gaping mouths.

Awkward moments passed after Merlin finished his oath. _And quite a nice one too, _Merlin thought with some exasperation after having spent a whole evening preparing it. _Trust that dollop-head to ruin the moment. _But even he began to fidget when no answer was forth-coming. Finally he looked up at his King and his voice trembled nervously as he whispered, "Arthur, I _really_ need you to speak now."

It was only that desperate look that allowed Arthur to recover from his astonishment enough to say the pretty words history demanded and the most faithful of his friends deserved. He quickly forgot whatever it was he said, but judging by the overjoyed grin on Merlin's face, it was something adequate.

Eventually recovering just enough to tease, he gazed benevolently down at the idiot and asked, "Are you crying like a girl, Merlin?" already smiling at the 'Leave off, prat!' he fully expected in return. But when Merlin, still on one knee in front of the throne, stared up at him with the tears streaming unashamedly down his face and blubbered around the brightest, wobbliest grin the King had ever seen, "I've never ever been free before," Arthur had a hard time keeping his own tears at bay. And then when Gaius, both crying and laughing giddily himself, strode down and took Merlin's head in his hands and kissed the man on the forehead, only for Merlin to leap up, embrace his mentor with abandon and laugh wildly that Gaius was free now too and babble on about how now someone named Alice could come back… well, Gods, by that time half the bloody room was in tears!

But the most astounding moment was yet to come. For when Geoffrey, who seemed to be the only soul - other than Merlin and Gaius - who had taken in even half of what Merlin had said in his declaration, came forward and asked, "Are you truly Emrys?" a voice sounded in Arthur's mind:

_That he is, young Pendragon._

_Who are you? _Arthur gasped, instinctively responding in the same fashion. (Something he was vastly thankful for later, for though Gwen, his Knights and indeed a small part of the Court was too busy congratulating Merlin and questioning him about this Emrys business to notice their sovereign's preoccupation, it still wouldn't have done for the King to be seen talking to himself.)

_I am the Great Dragon, Kilgharrah._

_Wait__…__ wait__…__ didn__'__t I -_

The deepest chuckle he had ever heard resounded warmly in his head_. I suspect there are many things my Dragonlord and you will have to discuss in the coming days, but for now know this: he is Emrys - a creature of magic sent by Destiny to be always by your side. His Fate is entwined with yours and it has been, and will be, his task to protect you, serve you, and assist you in uniting Albion and returning magic to the land. Trust him, young Pendragon, for you will never have a subject more loyal to you. _

Arthur turned his gaze towards his (now former) manservant, who caught his eye in return and laughed. Evidently, Merlin had heard the dragon's words, for he raised his voice over the hubbub and said, "One thing to hear the prophecies and another to have Destiny come right up and smack you in the face, isn't it?"

Those around the two men were puzzled at the warlock's words, but they parted to let their King stride towards his friend.

"Never have a subject more loyal, eh?" Arthur laughed back.

"We'll see," Merlin said dryly, not able to let that stand. "The overgrown lizard does have a tendency for exaggeration when making his pronouncements."

Arthur took Merlin by the shoulders and was suddenly filled with a profound joy. _Always by my side, _the dragon had said. _And it was true_, he thought and marveled that he had never realized it before. _Where else would my protector be? _

"Why Arthur, are you crying like a _girl_?" the obnoxious dolt in question asked, allowing Arthur to argue in the years to come that it had been Merlin who had completely ruined the moment.

Arthur ignored him. "I feel… I feel like…"

"Like Fate, our lives, the world, have finally come together?" the warlock suggested.

Arthur nodded helplessly, for that was exactly what it was like. Like the universe around him had suddenly shifted around him, slotting into its proper place and everything was as it should be, everything was… _right. _A warm, golden light filled his entire being and seemed to flow from him to fill the world around. Only his marriage to Gwen had brought such overwhelming joy, and even that hadn't brought this connection to…

_To what?_

_Time, perhaps, _a voice which was not the dragon's said in his mind, as much at a loss for an answer as he was. Arthur spotted Merlin's half-smirk and wondered if it was his (former) servant speaking to him or merely the words of his own soul.

But it didn't matter then. He was too happy for philosophical pondering. Instead, he did what the moment called for: he called Merlin an idiot loud enough for all to hear, then embraced the blasted fool to the cheers of his entire court.

-x-

Unfortunately, just because the King accepted Merlin's magic, did not mean that everyone in his Kingdom did.

* * *

><p><em>Okay, apparently this story is going to more than two chapters. (And here I was worried about having enough to fill a second chapter!) I also did not see this becoming a reveal fic, but this story has been more insistent at getting told than any other I've written and where it's going seems to be completely out of my hands. It started off as comedy, moved into exultant drama and is now hinting there's going to be a bit of angst before it's through. I don't know how the constant change of tone is going to end up working, but so far I'm happy. I hope you will be too. And thank you to everyone who responded to the first chapter. I'm grateful you liked it so well and I'm also grateful for the warm and gracious welcome I've had into the fandom over the course of my three stories. <em>


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

><p>Signs were there right from the beginning, though they were generally ignored in the heady few weeks after Merlin's revelation. The warlock himself, after a lifetime of hiding, was especially giddy and only laughed when Arthur told him of some of the accusations being bruited about by some of the Lords on the King's Council.<p>

"They say you've enchanted me," Arthur reported with a huff, more than a little insulted that he could be seen as being so gullible.

Merlin, grinning exuberantly and practically dancing on his feet, didn't even bother looking away from the patch of daffodils he was causing to grow and bloom in the Queen's garden. "Oh yes, definitely. I enchanted you to throw goblets at my head, make me wash your dirty socks, use me for target practice, dump buckets of water on my head and take nine years to repeal the ban on magic. Should I not have done that?"

"_Mer_lin - "

"Ooh, ooh, look Arthur! Isn't this a wonderful shade of yellow? Do you think Gwen will like it?"

The King decided to go off and speak to someone who wasn't a thirteen-year-old girl currently tipsy on lime cordial.

Of course, the larger problem at the time was what to do with Merlin. Arthur didn't feel it was right to keep history's most all-powerful sorcerer (and wasn't _that _a surprise!) folding his under things, even if it did mean he now had to put up with one-thousand-brass-jokes George. But at the same time, Merlin obviously needed _something _to do; the Court wasn't going to put up with thousands of coloured bubbles appearing in the courtyard every day, no matter how much the castle's children enjoyed chasing them.

"Have you thought about re-instituting the position of Court Sorcerer, Sire?" Gaius suggested.

"I did consider it, but it might be a little too soon, don't you think? I mean, repealing the law on magic is one thing, but installing a Court Sorcerer again… a lot of the older Lords still remember Nimuë, after all."

"There will never be a perfect time, Arthur."

"I suppose not."

"And I would like Merlin to stop spontaneously turning my leeches into guppies."

"In other words, give the idiot a way to release his excess magic."

"If you would be so kind, Sire."

Arthur did ponder the matter for a good while, or at least until the lucky happenstance of a Catoblepas passing through the Kingdom eased the way. Apparently there was nothing like a giant, scaly bovine with the head of a wild boar who could turn people to stone to get stuffy lords to start nodding eagerly and shouting, "Yes, yes, we need an expert on magic immediately! Please go find one while we hide under this table!"

Merlin - rather enthusiastically - eliminated the threat with a wave of his hand (only afterwards looking towards a stunned ruler and his equally gob-smacked knights to say a bit sheepishly, "Oh, I'm sorry, Arthur! You hadn't been wanting to kill it yourself, had you?") and so was confirmed as the new Court Sorcerer.

However, that was when the darker side of this state of affairs first became an issue, for when Merlin ended up missing what promised to be a raucous feast in his honour and spent the first three days of his new tenure unconscious after being hit in the head by a rock the size of Arthur's fist, the King's rage knew no bounds.

Merlin was more sanguine. (Or at least he was once he woke up and a) assured himself of the well-being of Arthur and all of his friends, and b) could stop being sick for more than a couple of hours at a time.)

"It's too be expected now, I guess," he pointed out, wincing a moment later at Arthur's bellow of _"__What!__"_

"Likely they were going after you and this is just the downside of my being in the open now. Now whoever wants your prattish head on spike knows who they have to get through first."

Arthur considered that grimly, but decided it was a discussion for another time. He sat down in the chair next to Merlin's bed. "I don't think someone trying to assassinate the King would chose a rock as a weapon, you frightening imbecile."

Merlin looked away, but not before Arthur caught the flash of new uncertainty in his eyes. "Perhaps not," was all he said, and for a little while the two men sat quietly, neither wanting to go into the subject further.

"Merlin… I don't like this," Arthur said finally.

"Well, I'm not too thrilled with it either, bean-brain."

Arthur snorted softly. "That's a new one."

Merlin shrugged and smiled, if a bit wanly. "Hey, new job, new insult."

"We need to be serious."

Merlin turned his gaze to look his King in the eyes. "Arthur… it's just the price we're both going to have to pay. It wasn't right for the law to stay as it was, and it wasn't right - or fair - for me to stay hidden once it changed."

Arthur sighed and patted his friend on the shoulder. "We'll figure something out, Merlin."

Merlin smiled more widely this time. "We always do."

-x-

Time passed and for the most part things got better, at least for Arthur. As the Kingdom settled into this new phase, Arthur welcomed new allies in the Druids and, while occasionally feeling a slight pang for the old days, began to enjoy the changes to his and Merlin's relationship. The warlock's new standing and rank only enhanced their bond and lightened the weight on the King's shoulders in ways that would have been unfathomable to Arthur a short time before. The King had grown confident in his own abilities in the years leading up to this point, and had even learned to love his role as ruler and protector of his people, but it was an unexpected gift to suddenly have someone close who so truly understood the burdens and isolation that came with great power, and it was a gift Arthur quickly grew to cherish.

Possibly that's why he didn't always notice the smaller signs of the people's discontent towards his former manservant. Oh, there were bumps in the road - confessions from Merlin, apologies (sometimes horrified and sometimes ashamed) from both, hesitant questions from both sides over matters of trust, disagreements about Merlin's new role in fighting off threats - but generally Arthur was content, and even a little awed that Destiny would send him a supernatural protector.

So it can perhaps be forgiven if he didn't always see the way some of the people in the lower town would make signs if Merlin's shadow happened to touch them, or how the baker who had formerly pushed his oldest daughter at Merlin the servant in the hopes of marrying her off now kept all three daughters away from his stall until Merlin the warlock had bought his honey roll. And of course he could not be expected to know how his laundry-women, who had previously pinched Merlin's cheeks, now handed his Court Sorcerer his linens in rigid fear, as if the slightest offence would cause Merlin to bring down the ceiling on them, for Arthur did not regularly go to that part of the castle.

What he did know, however, was that Merlin didn't have a servant.

"He doesn't want one, Arthur," Gwen tried to explain.

"I don't care. He has too many duties to focus on to be doing everything for himself, even with his magic. And I don't care if he's the most powerful sorcerer in the world - if I find my kingdom destroyed because that blithering idiot wore himself out washing his huge collection of potion flasks or dusting all of the spell books in his chambers, I will have his magical head!"

"Arthur, it's not that easy - "

"I know it's an adjustment, but you were able to make it."

"Arthur…" Gwen faltered, suddenly hesitating. "Arthur, no one will serve him."

"What… what do you mean?"

"No one will serve him."

"Because of his magic? Are we back to that nonsense again?" he roared.

"For some of them it's the idea of serving a former servant - you wouldn't believe the offended hierarchy down there when one of us… well, that's not important. But, yes, mostly it's due to his magic."

"Well, I can put a stop to that!"

"Arthur, no!" Gwen pleaded.

Arthur stopped to stare at her, completely perplexed. "What? Whyever not?"

"Arthur, you can order a servant to work for him, but if you do, they'll never do it happily."

"I don't care about their happiness!"

"But you know Merlin will! And more importantly, do you really want someone around him every day who…well, may not have his best wishes at heart?"

Arthur understood her immediately. If Merlin's servant hated him, or even just didn't care enough to protect him from a more powerful someone who did…

"But Gwen, if I don't assign him a servant, he'll know why."

Gwen drew close and he felt her arms wrap around him.

"Oh, Arthur, he knows already," she said sadly.

-x-

Once Arthur was really looking, it was easy to see things hadn't become any less difficult for his Court Sorcerer. Merlin still seemed the same old Merlin - always smiling, always happy, always ready to help - but outside of the warlock's small circle of friends, few seemed comfortable with him, no matter how many things he did to save them.

When Merlin created special jars to preserve fruit and vegetables that later helped stave off a famine during a particularly long winter, the people loved King Arthur for his foresight in saving them from going hungry. When Merlin helped cure people during a plague, it was Gaius that they thanked. When Merlin nearly killed himself saving the castle from a demon, it was the Knights who were celebrated.

Even the dragons seemed to be more welcome in Camelot than Arthur's Court Sorcerer. Kilgharrah was still feared, and so rarely came close, but it was a point of boastful pride to the people that their home was protected by not just one, but _two_ dragons, a fact they had no trouble reminding any and all visitors to the Kingdom every chance they got. And Aithusa was adored. The little white dragon - now the size of a large horse - came often to see his "Father" and played and did acrobatics for the castle's children to the point where even the adults would drop everything to watch with unfeigned pleasure. But the fact that it was the two beasts' dragon lord who ensured their gentleness was conveniently forgotten by almost everyone.

Merlin was hardly unaware of this, and though he looked sad at times, he mostly shrugged it off, saying he was happy as long as those he loved accepted him. But even he could be unpleasantly surprised at times, such as the day when Gwaine, in a moment of stupidity so monumentally huge it could have encompassed the whole of the still-unformed Albion, introduced poor Aithusa to a keg of ale.

A drunken dragon is not a pretty sight. Nor, indeed, is a hung-over one a particularly beneficial presence within the small confines of a courtyard. Broken bits of wall and pools of dragon vomit were strewn around a writhing lump of really-dangerous-safety-hazard and the moaning was positively unbearable to everyone within a league's radius.

Arthur had ranted and raved for well over an hour at still mostly inebriated Gwaine, who had collapsed to a sitting position against the finally snoring dragon, but before an infuriated Merlin (who had had a headful of an indignant Kilgharrah and a frightened Aithusa crying that he was dying) could have his turn, a shop-keeper stepped up and shocked all three men by spitting in Merlin's eye.

"This is all your fault!" the man shouted, his face red and sneering. "Nobody wants you around, you spawn of the Devil!" And before they could blink, he spat on Merlin again.

Arthur had never seen Merlin so utterly taken aback, and the shock and hurt were so evident that even Gwaine, who had been up till now only vaguely repentant, felt horrible. But before either of Merlin's friends could grab the man who had caused the problem, Aithusa rolled to his feet and roared at the man.

"_YOU HURT FATHER!__"_

"_AITHUSA, NO!__" _Merlin shouted and Arthur saw the shop-keeper jump back in sudden fear.

Merlin stepped in between the man and the dragon and Arthur had never wanted to clout someone so much as when he saw the man's look of disgust at Merlin's getting closer to him. _"__DON__'__T YOU DARE, AITHUSA! DON__'__T YOU DARE!__"  
><em>

"_BUT HE HURT YOU, FATHER!__"_ Aithusa protested, stalking dangerously as he tried to get around the warlock.

Arthur, to his own disgust, also had to get in front of the belligerent shop-keeper before things could get worse. _"__GET HIM UNDER CONTROL,__MERLIN!__"_he ordered.

"_AITHUSA - YOU WILL STOP THIS NONSENSE __**NOW!**__**" **_Merlin bellowed as only a Dragonlord could, and at that sound EVERYONE stopped.

"Aithusa, he did not hurt me," Merlin continued after a moment. His voice was still firm, but Arthur could see him struggling to make it calm and soothing.

"He did, Father. He did too! I could FEEL it!" Aithusa said, pouting a bit now.

"No he didn't, Aithusa," Merlin said again. Arthur watched as Merlin went up to the agitated young dragon and started to stroke him on the shoulder. Arthur wasn't sure, since Merlin switched to the dragon-tongue, but he would have put money on the fact that Merlin was whispering endearments into the creature's ear. Eventually, he must have convinced Aithusa to go home to Kilgharrah for a little while, because, with one glaring look back at the shop-keeper, the little dragon leapt skyward and flew away.

Aithusa was barely out of sight, however, when said shop-keeper turned to Arthur and complained, "Did you see that? That damned sorcerer of yours told the beast to attack me!"

Merlin gasped, Arthur wondered if he was ruler to the most thick-witted group of people in creation, and Gwaine - thankfully - shut the man up with a well-placed fist to the face.

But before Arthur could finish with his orders to the guards to drag the knocked-out man to the dungeons, Merlin slipped away and ran off.

"Do you want me to go after him, Queenie?" Gwaine asked.

"No, I'll go after him. You get started on cleaning this mess up," Arthur told him and it was a mark of Gwaine's shame over the incident that he didn't complain.

Arthur was unable to find Merlin that day, however, or at any time for the next three. And when the downcast warlock finally did return, he absolutely refused to talk about the incident.

And so Arthur foolishly let it go. It was only later, after what happened when Merlin went to the village of Dyfrig, that he realized how bad things could get.

* * *

><p><em>My thanks again for all of the wonderful reviews. I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. I can't promise when the next one will be since things will be getting very busy for me starting next week, but I will try not to make it too long.<em>


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's note: Wow! Twenty-eight reviews! You guys are fabulous! I don't think I've ever had such an enthusiastic response to the first three chapters of anything before. _

_Anyway, this chapter was a little more of a struggle to write, and combined with the fact that I also only finished it five minutes ago, I am mentally incapable of judging its quality. At this point, my main hope is that I didn't unknowingly lapse into gibberish. Still, while it's darker than previous chapters, I think you'll enjoy it. (At least I hope so!) _

_And, to my continuing surprise, there will be more chapters._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

* * *

><p>That year was a time of great celebration in the Kingdom of Camelot, for it was in the early spring that her most gracious majesty, Queen Guinevere, gave birth to a son and heir. The birth was a difficult one, but by summer the babe was healthy and thriving and by the fall the only danger the new Crown Prince faced was being spoiled to death by his two besotted uncles.<p>

"It's not really fair," Elyan complained good-naturedly. "Merlin's got the advantage. I can't make balls float in the air or the wooden soldiers dance."

The King looked over from the paperwork on his table to where his Court Sorcerer, magical protector of the realm, was currently sprawled belly-down on the floor and pretending to chew on the baby's foot while making noises that sounded suspiciously like, "Nummy, nummy num nums."

"I don't think Merlin's advantage has anything to do with his magic," he consoled his brother-in-law wryly, "I think it has more to do with his having the mind of a child."

But for whatever reason, Arthur had to admit that little Llacheu was greatly taken with his mentally afflicted "uncle". Merlin always seemed to know instantly what the boy wanted, to the point where the King, the Queen and even Gaius came to half-believe Elyan's jest that Merlin could read the child's mind.

"I'm not reading his mind," Merlin assured Arthur one day as they were walking together to the Council Chambers.

"Oh, good."

"I can speak 'baby', that's all."

"Of course."

"By the way, he doesn't like the name Llacheu. He wants to be called Stormaggedon." *

"You know, someday I'm going to have a special set of magical-restraining stocks made just for you."

"That would be pretty pointless," Merlin informed him confidently.

"And why is that, pray tell?"

"Because I'm the best person you could find to make them and why would I make something to imprison myself without giving myself an easy way to escape?"

"Do me a favour, Merlin, and stop talking to the boy. I have the strongest feeling it is not at all healthy for him."

The warlock smirked. "You're just jealous I made him laugh before you did."

"Yes, Merlin. You punched his toy sheep and said, "Pow!" I eat my heart out daily that I didn't come up with that morsel of wit first."

"He still laughed."

Arthur smiled at the memory. His beautiful son had goggled saucer-eyed at the noise, fully displaying the breath-taking irises which had just turned from newborn blue to the warm shade of brown dearest to Arthur's heart, and then a beat later he had let out the merriest, most gleeful cackle Arthur had ever heard. Arthur, who hadn't even been aware that babies so small _could_ laugh, had so delighted at the sound that anyone coming into the nursery in the next half hour could have marveled at the spectacle of the Once and Future King and history's most powerful warlock on their knees, smacking a cloth sheep while grinning like absolute loons, all for the amusement of a tiny being who couldn't even sit up yet. It had been one of the happiest moments of Arthur's life.

Naturally though, it wouldn't do for Merlin to know that.

"He wasn't laughing with you, _Mer_lin, he was laughing at you. He knows a Court Jester when he sees one, after all. It goes without saying that he's a very perceptive child."

"Must get it from Gwen, then."

"Must do," Arthur agreed with a grin, not rising to the bait.

Merlin laughed out loud and patted him on the back. "You're getting better and better at diplomacy, Arthur. Anyway, you won't let the little imp forget me while I'm gone, will you?"

Arthur winced. "Honestly, I don't know, Merlin. This might be the perfect opportunity to try and switch his misguided affections over to a better role model. You know, like an Afanc or an Ogre or a Questing Beast - "

"Oh, very witty indeed, Sire. The boy will grow to be positively scintillating under your influence, that I can see. But you do admit he has affection for me?"

"Babies are creatures of questionable judgement."

Merlin raised an eyebrow as they reached the door to the chamber. "Even yours?" he asked.

Arthur gave him a playful shove into the room. "Get inside, you idiot. We've got work to do. And don't worry about Llacheu forgetting you. Dyfrig's not far; you'll probably only be gone a week."

"I bet I'm not gone an hour before you're trying to convince him to spit up on me the next time he sees me."

"Fine, fine, I'll have Gwen sew a Merlin doll and then we'll get someone to say stupid things and it will be like you've never left."

But it would be nearly two months before Llacheu would get to see Merlin again.

_-x-_

Arthur's unease started the day he watched his friends depart. Merlin, riding between Gwaine on his left and Percival on his right, looked over his shoulder and waved goodbye happily, causing Arthur to shake his head. "Watch where you're going, Half-wit!" he yelled with a laugh, but suddenly he felt a sort of pang in his chest.

_Don__'__t let them go_, came a thought from nowhere.

But he couldn't stop them. The people of Dyfrig were suffering. The farmer who had come to Court begging for the King's help had said that a passing witch had cursed them, destroying their crops and poisoning their people. "The people are dying, Sire," he'd said, "And those what might live will have naught to eat come Winter."

Arthur watched from the battlements as his friends got smaller and smaller in the distance. He could just see Gwaine leaning far over in the saddle, nudging Merlin with his elbow, and the warlock throwing back his head to laugh in response at whatever it was.

_Go with them, _his instinct said.

But that too was impossible. There was a party coming from Mercia to discuss a treaty and he needed to be here. As the dream of Albion drew slowly closer, greater responsibilities were of necessity being placed upon his shoulders, and he could no longer as easily afford to leave at whim. Especially for something as arguably needless as riding escort for an all-powerful warlock and two of his strongest knights.

_Be safe, my friends_, he wished as he reluctantly turned away. He left to search out his family; without quite knowing why, he was suddenly in desperate want for the comfort only his beloved wife and son could provide.

_-x-_

Arthur rolled over and moved closer to Guinevere.

"Mmm, Arthur? Is something wrong?" Gwen asked sleepily.

"It's nothing, love. Go back to sleep. I'm just cold."

"Come closer, then," she murmured, wrapping her arms more tightly around him. "Is that good?" she asked, her eyes already closed again.

"More than good," he whispered back. But it wasn't. As comforting as he found being held in his wife's cosy embrace, it didn't quite dispel the chill he was feeling. He lay awake for some time feeling the sensation growing stronger before he realized that he was inexplicably anxious.

Arthur was not generally a worrier. That's not to say he never felt concern - he did, but usually only when he was in a situation that was threatening him or his Kingdom. And yes, there were times of doubts as well, times when it took Gwen or Merlin or Gaius, or perhaps all three, to set him on his feet again. But this unwarranted restlessness, this kind of dread coming out of nowhere… this was something he almost never had to endure. The last time he'd felt like this had been while Gwen was expecting. Considering his own mother's history, however, that had therefore been understandable at least.

But what was it now? Was it the baby? Gwen was usually much more attuned to the child than he was and she seemed perfectly content, but just to be certain he eased himself carefully out of her embrace, colder the moment the touch of her arms left his skin, and padded softly over to Llacheu's cradle.

"Are you well, my little lad?" he asked in a gentle whisper as he stroked the baby's cheek. For a moment, some of his tension dissipated as his hand moved to touch the baby's fine soft hair, straighter than his mother's as of yet, but still so obviously from her. The baby was fine, neither too cold nor too warm, his breathing deep and even.

He watched his child sleep until the cold reasserted itself again. Moving to the window, he looked outside. There had been a nip in the air that day that promised snow, but it hadn't started yet and the paths were clear. The negotiations with the delegation from Mercia had gone extremely well and they had left two days before and, with luck, Arthur thought they would make it home without difficulty.

His gaze wandered over the castle grounds below him. He could see no undue movement in the shadows, nor signs of disturbance in the light of the bobbing torches of those on watch, and all seemed quiet.

_Everything__'__s fine, _he told himself. _Why are you so worried? _

Then he saw them. A darker shape silhouetted against black of the night sky, flying at the castle from the north, with a smaller, slightly lighter one beside it, white hide glowing in the starlight. There was a sudden uproar on the battlements as the guards on watch spotted them as well.

A shiver pierced his spine and his hands tightened into painful fists at his side.

_Arthur Pendragon, _a voice he hadn't heard in nearly three years said in his head, _Come to the gate. For I am afraid I bring your warlock back to you somewhat less than whole. _

Arthur's heart sank within him.

_-x-_

Arthur, Gaius, Leon, Elyan and half a dozen servants rode out to meet the swiftly approaching party on the grounds in front of the castle, a line of guards ringing around them at their backs.

In the darkness though it was, the King would never, ever forget the sight of the Great Dragon flying in low, coming directly towards him as he dismounted and rushed forward, with a white-faced Percival in one clawed grasp, and in the other…

In the other was Gwaine, holding another's lax form tightly to him, one hand keeping the darker head turned away and tucked into the space between the knight's neck and shoulder, shielding his friend's face from the wind. The other form - Merlin - lay silent and unmoving, but what Arthur's eyes were drawn to as Kilgharrah hovered just above, lowering his handfuls gently towards outstretched arms, was the warlock's feet. Dangling bare and forlorn beneath the dragon's grip, they looked as though they had been ripped to shreds and were dripping blood.

They also had been burned.

-x-

A sickened Arthur was confused but did not protest when Gaius directed Merlin to be placed on the blankets the servants had lain on the ground.

"The dragons may be able to help, Arthur," the physician explained before Arthur could even voice the question, "But Kilgharrah is too big to fit in the courtyard."

With Gwaine's assistance, he lowered the unconscious man down as gently as he would a sleeping Llacheu and then all three men backed away.

"Aithusa and I will do what we can, Young Pendragon," the dragon said, badly startling the crowd behind them, a few of whom had been completely unaware the beast could speak. "But Merlin is in gravely ill as well as injured."

"Ill?" Arthur demanded, stunned. "Is it the same sickness that was afflicting the villagers?" But Kilgharrah did not bother to answer; he and Aithusa were already leaning their heads towards the still body on the ground before them, gathering their power within them and preparing to work.

"It was these, Arthur," Percival said, coming up to him and Gaius. He opened his hand to show them a long, silver-coloured spike.

"What is it?" Gaius asked, taking the object and examining it closely.

Percival's voice quivered with rage for the first time since Arthur had met him. "They didn't tie him or even shackle him to the stake! Those damned_…__ monsters__…_melted down their magic-resistant chains and made these spikes, and then they _nailed_ him to it!"

Arthur felt Gaius flinch beside him. "And now of all the dark spells made to keep his magic under control have been driven right into his blood," the older man exclaimed with a hush.

"That's what the dragons said," Gwaine told them.

That was the last anyone spoke for awhile. As Arthur, Gaius, and Arthur's four best Knights stood and waited, their gazes never left the sight of their stricken friend even as the torches died down and dawn came upon them.

Finally, _finally_, the dragons raised their heads and moved back a step.

Arthur strode forward. He did not notice the beauty of the pink and golden sky to the east, nor the mist rising from glassy pond to the west.

"Have you finished?"

"We have done all we can, Arthur Pendragon," the Great Dragon answered regretfully. The beast's head was drooping, even bowed, but whether with grief or merely fatigue, Arthur could not tell.

Arthur swallowed thickly, fearing to say his next words. But he was King, and a King does not shy away. "Does he live?"

"He does, but whether he will continue to do so, neither I nor Aithusa can say."

Arthur looked towards the smaller dragon and his heart broke a little to see the glistening tears falling from the young creature's eyes.

"We destroyed the bad magic," Aithusa said and Arthur nearly smiled, for who knew dragons could sniffle? "But Father is so weak…"

Arthur did his best to console him, feeling more than a little helpless in the face of a softly whimpering dragon. "Try not to worry, Aithusa," he said, as Gaius moved forward on his other side to kneel by the side of his ward. "There are many here who love him and we will do everything in our power to make sure he gets well."

Aithusa glared balefully back at the castle. "Not everyone loves him like they should!"

"No. No they don't," the King admitted. "But those who don't will not get near him. I promise."

The little dragon bobbed his head in acceptance.

"Arthur, we must take him to the castle now," Gaius said.

Arthur barked orders for the litter to come forward and then he ordered his guards to clear the courtyard.

"What for?" Gwaine asked. "Maybe those who hate him will feel a little sympathy."

"No, they won't," Arthur said flatly. "And I will not have them seeing him like this so they can gloat with pleasure."

Gwaine nodded and left Arthur where he was standing to follow the procession through the gates. Arthur turned back to the dragons.

"No matter what happens, Kilgharrah, Aithusa, you will always have my gratitude for what you did this night."

"There is no need for thanks, young Pendragon. He is our Dragonlord and our kin. It would have been breaking the bounds of love and duty not to have tried to save him."

"Nevertheless, you have my thanks. Whatever I can do for you in return, I will do."

"Then we accept them graciously, King Arthur. Care and protect the young warlock as he does for you, and all accounting of debt will be unnecessary."

Arthur nodded in understanding and the dragons rose into the sky. As he walked slowly back to the citadel accompanied by those servants who had awaited him, he could not help but think that he had already failed.

* * *

><p><em>* Yes, I shamelessly stole this from "Doctor Who". You have to understand, I'm just not known for my willpower. Therefore, it would be ridiculous of you to expect me to resist things like this.<em>


	5. Chapter 5

****_Well, here we are again! Thank you so much for patiently waiting. Have this - the longest chapter yet - as thanks. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

* * *

><p>Gwen commanded the servants put Merlin in the largest of the castle's guest chambers, rather than his own rooms in the North tower. It was such a thoughtful and sensible consideration that Gaius, distracted though he was, had to stop and kiss her on the cheek.<p>

"I thank you for sparing an old man's back and knees, my dear. All of those stairs…"

Gwen wrapped her arms around him. "Nonsense, Gaius. I'm only being practical. Merlin's rooms are far too cluttered and cramped to accommodate having a physician and nurses at his bedside. Besides, you and I both know Arthur will do nothing but fret if Merlin is too far away, and right now that includes even being merely on the other side of the castle."

"You are too wise, my dear Queen," Gaius said and pecked her on the cheek again with a chuckle. But then he saw her frown. "Gwen? What is it?"

She quickly swiped a traitorous tear from her eye. "Nothing, Gaius. It's just that I suddenly remembered the last time you did that and so I looked over, stupidly hoping he'd…"

"Wake up again and tell me I'm disgusting?" *

His words startled a soft snuffling titter out of her, but he could see the pained set of her eyes with their brimming tears. She nodded, a bit shakily. "And, I know it's foolish, but when he didn't just now, it was so…so… _disappointing_."

He gathered her to him this time. "Oh, my dear Gwen, I know. Trust me, I know."

-x-

The day wore on painfully slowly. Gwen's foresight proved to be both helpful and accurate, and Arthur did seem a fraction more at ease with his friend's closer proximity. If it were up to him, he would have stayed in Merlin's room and stood guard until the warlock was awake and able to fend for himself, but that could not be. There were things to do.

Arthur, Leon and Elyan sat alone at the Round Table when Gwaine and Percival came in. Arthur gestured for them to sit down.

"Tell us what happened," he said.

-x-

The people of Dyfrig had been very clever, Arthur thought later as he absently studied the new scar on the back of Merlin's right hand.

As Gwaine's tale had unfolded, a strange, implacable coldness had descended upon Arthur as he realized how meticulously the people of Dyfrig must have planned this atrocity against his sorcerer. And of how instinctively they had realized an important fact: that when going up against a sorcerer of unmatched powers, your best strategy was to do everything possible to mitigate that advantage before you attacked.

According to Gwaine, Merlin had been puzzled right from the first, instantly realizing that the "magically cursed" plague was nothing of the sort. The people had been genuinely ill, both Gwaine and Percival attested to that, and it had been a horrifying thing to see - a disease of black swellings and bellies bloated to the bursting point - but it most certainly had not been the work of a witch.

But there'd been no time to look for the truth. The men of the town had paraded victim after victim in front of Merlin. _"Please save my father. Please save my daughter. They're in such pain. Please save my wife, my brother, my baby. I can't live without them." _It had seemed so natural. After all, what would panicking relatives care about what or who was to blame? Blame would come later, right then all they would be able to think about was having their loved one cured.

And yet it had been so perfect too, for it had served three important purposes: it had sapped Merlin's strength and dulled his senses; it had worked as a constant distraction, keeping him from dwelling too long upon his suspicions; and finally it had appealed to that part of him which had no greater desire than to help others, thereby leading him to ignore his own doubts about the situation.

Every day Merlin had worked himself to a state of trembling exhaustion, stumbling to his knees more than once, but finally the people in the town were well. Then the town begged him to heal the soil in the fields and raise new crops so they would not starve that winter.

_Well, what else could he have done? _Arthur thought now as he stood and watched the sun set through the window in Merlin's sick room. He wanted to be annoyed at the warlock, but the idea of Merlin refusing to help was so ridiculous that even Arthur couldn't fault him for his decision. There would have simply been no other choice for Merlin, and so therefore Arthur's getting irritated at him for so grandiosely risking himself seemed frankly pointless at the moment. His thoughts turned once more to Gwaine's story.

"His suspicions just wouldn't keep quiet anymore," the knight had explained, his voice growing softer as he remembered what happened next. "Nearly dead on his feet, more evenings than not having to be carried home from the field piggy-back by Percy here, but he was damned if he was going to let it rest."

And so they had discussed it at length, night after night, Merlin growing more and more pensive as nothing made sense. As they reckoned it, bandits would simply hide, ambushing travelers on the road. Raiders on the other hand, would come in a lightning attack, swooping down and devastating the town, caring little for the subtleties of poisoning the people or scourging the land beforehand. Percival had suggested some war chieftain or petty King, determined to have the territory for himself. Merlin and Gwaine had agreed it was a very good possibility, but felt he must be a very short-sighted warlord to not only leave the people too weak to pay him tribute, but also to destroy the very land he wanted, for Merlin had said that without a magical healing nothing would have ever grown there again. Of course it was possible the hypothetical warlord might have had a sorcerer of his own, or had tried to destroy the town in vengeance or as a warning to others, but as the three men pondered it further, it had instinctively felt wrong. None of the townspeople had mentioned any threat that way for a start, and surely someone would have remembered receiving a demand of some kind, or become suspicious of the events after being persecuted and threatened by an outside source.

But where did that leave their theories? A person vendetta of some sort? If so, it would have almost certainly had to have been more than one person. A single individual could have poisoned the well-water or put something into the communal food storage, but scourging _all_ of the fields in the surrounding area would be a tremendous job for a person on their own. Quite frankly, by this point the three of them could hardly blame the townspeople for jumping to the conclusion it'd been a witch. If not for the fact there was no magic, it was the most reasonable assumption to make.

Gwaine went on to describe how Merlin had worried himself sick that the first old woman to come through the town would be falsely accused, or that some other innocent might be hunted down if they didn't convince the people of Dyfrig that no magic was involved. But as he continued, Arthur noticed that the knight's telling of each event grew more and more terse as he drew reluctantly closer to the moment they all dreaded - the finally restoration of the fields, the feast, waking up to find himself and Percival in a cage, then seeing…

Gwaine jumped up from the Round Table then, his demeanour sharply changed. Suddenly he startled them all by ripping his gauntlet from his hand and whipping it against the wall, knocking a tall (and thankfully unlit) candle stand to the floor with a clatter.

"Damnit Arthur, I knew!" he cried before they were able to say a word. _"__I bloody knew!__"_

Arthur had seen the man furious before, but not like this. Gwaine was enraged, but at himself, and for the first time since they'd met, the dark-haired man looked to have tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. The King stood, slowly, calmly. "Sir Gwaine, please get a hold of yourself," he ordered.

"No, Arthur! You don't understand! I knew something was wrong! I could feel it! Those bloody bastards, they just kept harping on and on about how it'd had been a witch… it wasn't just hate, they were too…" he struggled for a word, "too… _insistent_," he shouted and dashed a goblet from the table to the floor. "They went on about it so much I started to get the feeling you do when some slimy stall-owner is trying to convince you to buy his snake-oil, as if he just has to say something enough times to push you into believing it."

He'd paused, breathing heavily, and then he had looked Arthur in the eye. "By the Gods, Arthur, I knew! I _knew_, but I just didn't put it together fast enough. The way they'd look at him and talk, the false smiles as they thanked him…"

"Sir Gwaine," Arthur said kindly, "this is not your fault."

"Arthur - " the knight started, about to protest, but he fell silent when Arthur raised his hand.

"Gwaine," and now it was Arthur speaking to a friend as well as the King speaking to a loyal Knight, "you could not have known. How could anyone have? To think that the people of Dyfrig would poison their own citizens, their own _families, _not to mention burn the soil which sustains them, just to trap one man, is beyond the understanding of any decent soul."

He walked over to Gwaine and placed his hands on the dark-haired man's shoulders. "Listen to me, Gwaine. Whatever happens, neither you nor Percival are to blame. No more than I am for sending the three of you, or Merlin is for being fooled because he only wanted to save people."

"Arthur…"

"No, Gwaine. I am sure that you, I and Percival will always feel regret over what has happened. In fact, I have no doubt we'll likely spend the rest of our lives wondering if there was something else we could have seen, something more we could have done to prevent what happened, but Gwaine, _I do not blame you_. And whatever happens, _I will not_. Do you understand me?"

Gwaine surprised Arthur then, who expected either more rage or a wild slap on the back. Instead, the knight lowered himself onto one knee and bowed his head in front of his King. "I am humbled by your forgiveness, Sire, but I accept it gratefully. And I ask you now, what is it you wish of me, My Liege?"

If not for the solemnity of the moment or the emotions which were running high throughout the whole room, Arthur might have snorted at Gwaine's uncharacteristic formality.

"You would have laughed, Merlin," Arthur said as he left his spot by the window to come and sit by the side of his stricken friend once more. "Either that, or cried like the girl you are. Because it only got worse after that."

Before he could stop them, Percival and then the other two had risen from their places at the Round Table to come before him and had quickly followed suit, kneeling before him.

"Rise," Arthur had commanded. "And do not thank me yet, for I know you will not like the orders I am about to give you."

-x-

"And you probably won't like them either, when you find out," Arthur said to Merlin, "But don't you dare argue with me!" he warned, as if the unconscious man was fully capable of doing so. "I know you, you soft-hearted, self-sacrificing idiot. You'll tell me it's not worth it. But this is not about avenging you - this is about things like treason and maintaining the law, things a King must deal with if he wishes to keep the peace in his Kingdom. So not a word out of you! Not one bloody word! They assaulted Gwaine and Percival as well as you, tried to rob Camelot of its magical protection, conspired to ferment rebellion against the new law and Heaven knows what else they did, but I WILL NOT HAVE IT!"

Arthur got up and started to pace. "And even if it was about you - which it is most certainly not - is that so bad?" he went on, ignoring the lack of response as if Merlin was only silent because he was stunned by Arthur's vehemence and not because he was fighting for his life. "Why is it you can never see your own worth? You're a Lord now, whether or not you forbid people from using the title. Any other Lord I know would be screaming for vengeance like a spoiled nine-year-old who'd just got a bloody nose on the training grounds. So why can't you? Why can't you see that your friends have a right to protect you? Are you so selfish you think it all has to go the one way? Yes, that's right - _selfish_. Protecting us all the time without letting us return the favour puts an obligation on us, not to mention it's a bit insulting. Do you think we're not good enough? Not smart enough? Not _brave_ enough? Do you think we don't want to help? That we're _that_ selfish and self-absorbed?"

Arthur came to a sudden halt, almost ready to pull his hair out. _Oh, this is just wonderful. I can forgive Gwaine, but now I__'__m yelling at the victim._

"I'm sorry, Merlin. I'm so very sorry. It's just that I… I'm so ANGRY right now and you - you idiot - you're not here to talk me out of it."

He sat down again. "By the Gods, Merlin, I don't know how you've put up with me for so long. How hard it must have been for you to drill sense into my head all of these years! But when I think that if you hadn't been talking in your mind to Kilgharrah when… well, I don't know what I would have done."

"As it is though, I'm sure you'll be happy to know I've ordered that the perpetrators be brought back to Camelot, where each will get a fair trial. That I promise you, Merlin. I will make certain of it, no matter what my personal feelings on the matter. Never again will innocents die if it is within my power at all to prevent it."

"But it would be easier if you woke, Merlin. You must admit that. I need you to nag me and mock me and keep my feet on the ground. And I need to know you will be all right, not just physically, but emotionally as well. Because, for all your ridiculous heroics before, it wasn't until you became Court Sorcerer that all of this brooding self-martyrdom really started in earnest, was it? Back then you'd complain and tell me off if I made you do too much, but now you don't say a word. Now you just frown all the time. Why is that, Merlin? Do you think you need to endure everything stoically in order to prove yourself? Or is it that the people have finally ground you down? Have they finally turned your mind around and convinced you that you're not worth anything better?"

"Because that's what I fear, Merlin. You've changed so much since I made you Court Sorcerer, and especially since that whole blasted episode when that lunatic Gwaine got poor Aithusa drunk. And I'm scared you've changed because they've finally beaten you down and that I _completely missed seeing it_."

"So please wake up, my friend, because I'm not sure I can live with the fact that I've failed you. And more importantly, I simply need to see you well and happy. Because what use is destiny if there's no justice behind it? And for you to give so much and not receive anything in return, well, where's the justice in that? By the Gods, I'm here babbling like an idiot - a big, _girly_ idiot - but I swear, Merlin, if destiny is this cruel, than I say to hell with it! If you can be denied the happiness you deserve again and again, if instead all you receive is this level of cruel punishment for all that you do, then I just can't see the worth of it all."

-x-

The next dawn saw Gwaine, Elyan and twenty knights riding north, to find and capture the villains from Dyfrig. As Arthur had predicted, Gwaine had not been happy at having to leave Camelot when Merlin's life hung in the balance, but he'd initially got over it by thinking of how he could avenge his friend. So to then have Arthur tell him that the perpetrators were to be brought back for trial grated severely.

"Do it for Merlin," Arthur told him.

"How is letting those bastards get away with anything less than roasting on a giant pyre doing something for Merlin?" Gwaine demanded belligerently.

"Because, as much as they deserve it, slaughtering these people willy-nilly will win Merlin no friends. The people will only think he's enchanted us all again and made us kill innocent people to avenge him, which in turn will make them feel even more justified in being afraid of him.

"And you honestly think some damn fool trials will really help?"

"No, not really. But it will give any of his accusers less of a leg to stand on. And perhaps, just perhaps, a few of the more intelligent of Merlin's opponents might see that reason still rules this Kingdom, and not the whims of some 'devil-spawn' sorcerer."

Gwaine growled some marvelously creative curses under his breath, but decided to go along with Arthur's wishes in the end. Truthfully, Arthur had wondered about sending him at all, but the search needed someone who'd been there and could identify the most likely suspects, especially if, as Arthur thought, a good part of the town might have fled from the destruction wrought by the two dragons during the rescue, which meant the search might have to comb through the forest and even other towns.

"So send Percival," Gwaine argued when Arthur explained his reasoning. Percival nodded grimly; he'd been the one to pull the spikes out of Merlin's feet and hands, and it wasn't a horror he easily could forget. This time the normally stoic and gentle man possibly wanted revenge even more than Gwaine.

"I need Percival here. We haven't heard from Morgana in a long time, but if she should find out about Merlin's condition, or if the wards he's placed over the castle should fail, I'll need Percival to help Leon ready the remaining knights and guards for a potential battle. And - "

"And old Percy here is better at that than I am," Gwaine said, not at all bothered by the admittance.

"Yes." And it was true. The knights loved to go drinking with the more volatile and fun-loving Gwaine, or just generally be in his company for it never lacked for excitement, but it was Percival who was the more patient trainer, as well as the steady and reassuring presence the younger men tended to rely on in battle.

Therefore, as the sun rose to his right, Arthur once more watched a party from Camelot set out for Dyfrig. He worried for his men, but other than that his heart was cold as stone within his chest. While a small part of the man was possibly concerned by his growing ability for hardness, the King that he was realized that not all of his father's lessons had been wrong and that protecting his people at times required a somewhat inhuman callousness. It should have been difficult to give the order for people to be hunted down, and more difficult still knowing the probable outcome of any trial which might take place, but as he spent the next three weeks watching his closest friend forced to undergo a long and painfully arduous battle for his life, Arthur Pendragon was unsurprised to find that his conscience bothered him very little.

* * *

><p><em>* First season episode, "The Poisoned Chalice".<em>

_Wow, this chapter turned into a regular angst-o-rama. And I didn't even really get into the story about the attack or Merlin's illness yet. Anyway, there's at least one more chapter to come, but more likely two (or given my abilities for prediction when it comes to this story, maybe thirty-seven). _


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's notes:** Not much to say for this chapter. There's not a ton of action, but Merlin whumpers and/or hurt comfort fans will hopefully like it. Anyway, I've never been one to respond to reviews individually, and I've never done so in a story before, but for some reason I felt like it this time. (I think mostly to answer Klaine's question, because I myself am wondering about the lack of Merlin POV.)_

_**Kool Kato and ArodieltheElfofRohan** - Your precarious positions are making me nervous. Please sit back securely and don't hang yourselves. _

_**daydreamdreamer** - I hope I've updated soon enough for you to retain your structural integrity. Any puddle on the floor and my cat will walk in it, then get wet footprints all over the place. (P.S. - This may show my age, but do you know how hard it is to write your pen name and not write 'day dream believer' instead?)_

_**KlaineDrarryMerthur** - Hopefully there will be some Merlin POV (at least a little) in the next chapter. I don't know what it is though, but Arthur is just absolutely determined to be the center of this story! _

_**irezel** - Considering this was supposed to be a story about birthdays, I'm astounded at where it went. (I.e. far from the 'sunshine-and-daises' path.) The veil of angst should lift a bit in the next chapter (or whatever one will have the birthday part), but yeah, it's been weird. Good, but weird. I don't think anyone is more surprised than I am about the direction of this story, but I'm glad that people seem to be enjoying it._

_And thank you to all of you for reviewing - it's wonderful to know people are so excited to see the next part, especially when this is it: _

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><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

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><p>Arthur Pendragon was raised to be a man of action. And more than that, it was the strongest part of his nature. In his veins flowed the blood of bold knights and resolute conquerors, men born to take charge, to stride purposefully towards the foe, sword out, and win out over all circumstances.<p>

Therefore, for all that - as King - he was also regularly expected to exercise the virtues of patience and discretion, this helpless waiting was absolute hell.

-x-

For the first three days Merlin slept, if such a state could indeed be called sleep. He was a frail apparition, laid out with his hands at his side, in the middle of the bed where he'd been placed like a man on a bier. He did not move, he did not twitch, his eyelids did not flutter. Arthur found it almost inhuman and hourly he had fight the urge to hold a dagger to Merlin's mouth and nose to make certain the warlock was still breathing.

_Two sides of the same coin__…_

He had scoffed when he first heard that, though more for show than because he disbelieved it completely. Nevertheless, as he kept vigil now, he realized he had not understood how true it was. There was some deeper sensation that went beyond even the despair of the situation. If asked, he might - in a particularly candid moment - admit that he was out-of-sorts without his friend's presence by his side, but then only to Gwen or Gaius. More likely would be him complaining that the Kingdom was falling to rack and ruin because _somebody_ was sleeping on the job, and that any peevishness on his part was just the natural, aggravating consequence of having to rely on the mentally afflicted. Nobody would believe this blustering of course, and, quite frankly, he would never expect them to, but it would be only true to form. In reality, he was frantically worried, and they knew he was frantically worried, and he knew that they knew, but it was never going to be admitted to out loud as that would make the reasons for his worry (and theirs) all the more real.

However, the sheer reality of the prophecy was a thing he could never have imagined. The complete and utter inability to find peace for even a moment, the cold grip of fear that clutched painfully at his innards, the secretly terrifying way he could sense when the rhythm of Merlin's breathing would imperceptibly weaken and Gaius would need to be called to dose him with something to stimulate his heart… it was at these times that Arthur felt both foolishly naïve for having taken the idea so lightly and shaken to his very core by the immense implications of it all.

"Gaius?" he asked one night when he became overwhelmed and needed to force his mind from the subject, "Should we send word to Hunith?"

"Have you looked outside this evening, Sire?" Gaius asked sadly in return.

Arthur rose and went to the window. Parting the drapes, he gazed out. Within the beams of light from the torches he could see the snow falling furiously, the flakes thick and heavy.

"I'm afraid the way to Ealdor will be impassable by morning, and will likely remain so for some time to come," Gaius explained.

"Ah," was all Arthur said, but inside his chest his heart broke at the idea that Merlin and his mother might be parted without getting to see each other one last time.

-x-

It was on the fourth day that the shivering started. Arthur wanted to believe Gaius's words that this was a good sign, that it meant Merlin had regained enough strength to start clawing his way out of the death-like torpor he'd been in, but truthfully it was hard to see where Merlin was in anything but abject misery. Despite a throat still hoarse from the heat and the smoke he'd inhaled, Merlin would mutter and whimper fearfully for hours at a time, leaving the helpless King convinced his friend was trapped in the grips of a never-ending nightmare.

"It's almost as if something's attacking him, isn't it," he said to Gaius as the other man spread an extra blanket over the quivering and fretful man.

"In a way, there is," Gaius replied. Blanket settled, he laid a hand on the warlock's forehead and to Arthur's wonderment he saw the physician's eyes flash gold.

"You just did magic!" he blurted out, feeling rather foolish as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Of course Gaius did magic, he'd known for years the old man was a sorcerer. "It's just that… you know… I'd never actually seen you… "

Gaius smiled. "It's all right, Sire. Truthfully, it still surprises me at times to remember I can do it freely now. After so many years of hiding from the Great Purge, it has become second nature _not_ to use it."

"What did you just do?"

"You could call it a diagnosis of sorts. A way to assess Merlin's condition."

"And?"

"It is improving, but slowly. I think the main problem at the moment is his magic. Kilgharrah and Aithusa were able to rid Merlin of the poison in his blood from the magical restraints, but not before it caused great damage to Merlin's own magic."

"You talk of his magic as if it were a separate thing, like a spirit within him."

"It is very hard to explain, Sire, but in a sense you are right. Merlin's magic is something that permeates the very material of his body - it is in his blood, his flesh, the marrow of his bones. It is in the very particles of his being. Yet, at the same time, it can… coalesce, I suppose is the best word. It can gather itself together like a rain cloud gathering from the moisture in the air, but unlike a rain cloud, it's as if it has an almost-conscious quality. And from what Merlin tells me, it even has a certain solidity - enough that it used to knock him off-balance back in the days when he couldn't use it freely."

"Really?" At any other time, Arthur might have been fascinated by this revelation, but right now he didn't care about Merlin's co-ordination as much as he did his prognosis. "So what's wrong with him?"

"Those first few days, Merlin was…" Gaius trailed off. Arthur heard him inhale shakily and realized the old man needed a moment to compose himself, so he didn't push.

"He was close to slipping away, those first few days," Gaius finally went on. "The dragons did so much - they destroyed the dark magic, they healed the wounds on his head which I suspect might have been from being struck from behind, they mended his hands and feet by knitting the bones and repairing the muscles and sealing the flesh up again, they healed the worst of the burns on his legs - but Merlin's body had exhausted its reserves of strength. I've seen failure of the organs before, and it wasn't quite like that. Perhaps it was an effect of the spell, but it was more as if he would just… _stop_, somehow."

Arthur didn't even bother to nod. He knew exactly what Gaius was talking about.

"But now, I think his magic is fighting to heal itself - battling the very damage inflicted upon it - and trying to heal the physical body at the same time." Gaius continued with a sigh, "My worry though, is that it seems to be out of control. It is flailing wildly within, unable to determine a way to help itself. I have tried to guide it, but I can't seem to manage it."

Arthur could hear the tired discouragement and strain in the physician's voice. "Gaius, if anyone can help, I am sure it is you," he assured the other man.

"Thank you, Sire. But in the end, I am afraid that we must hope it is Merlin who can somehow help himself."

-x-

On the ninth day, the fever came. What it meant, whether it was for good or ill, not even Gaius with his healing magic could determine, but Arthur could see he was worried as Merlin's breathing grew thicker in his chest.

"An irritation of the lungs," Gaius suggested. "He would have breathed in bits of ash with the smoke and it could be that they're affecting him now, aggravating the tissue within and causing the congestion."

Arthur nodded wearily, watching as Merlin twisted and writhed on the bed before him, tangling himself in the bedclothes, his head thrashing from side to side on his pillow. The King did not care about causes and explanations; there was only one thing he wanted to know: "Will he get better?" he asked.

"I cannot say, Sire."

"Is there nothing we can do for him, to lower the fever?"

"We've been trying things all day, Sire, but so far nothing has worked. We will keep trying though - you can count on that."

"I know you will, Gaius," Arthur replied listlessly. He knew he should try to sound more convincing, that it was his duty as King to lead and that included lending hope to those under him when they needed it. But this was Gaius, who'd known him since he was born, who'd dressed his cuts and dried his childhood tears, and just now he couldn't pretend - King or not, at this moment Arthur was an exhausted man who could barely scrape together the resolution to rise from his chair and attend to that day's duties, let alone try to hide anything from his oldest friend.

"Try to take heart, Arthur," Gaius consoled gently as the young King walked to the door. "The fact that Merlin still lives is reason enough for us to hope."

"As you say, Gaius," Arthur nodded and left.

-x-

The days after blended together in Arthur's mind, but on the eleventh day he came into Merlin's sick room to find his Court Sorcerer sobbing into Guinevere's shoulder as she rubbed his back, attempting to soothe him much as she would little Llacheu.

"Oh, Mam, Mam," Merlin cried, obviously mistaking Gwen for Hunith in his delirium. "Mam, I don't want to be a monster anymore!"

Shaking with rage, the King walked out of the room. At that moment, he could have wept.

-x-

Seventeen days after Merlin had been brought back to them, Arthur nearly decided to break his promise to the warlock.

Merlin's fever had mounted day by day, ravaging its way through his body like a brush-fire through dry grass. Sitting by his friend's bedside the previous evening, Arthur could practically see the inferno raging behind the warlock's wild, glittering eyes as the blaze burned the flesh from Merlin's bones and left him raving with nightmarish hallucinations. Arthur said nothing out of fear Gwen or Gaius might think he was crazy, but he would have even sworn his own skin had seemed to prickle and turn red, as if he could actually feel the blistering heat radiating off of the warlock, similar to sitting too close to the giant hearth in the Great Hall.

That morning, however, the King was riding outside the castle with Percival and Leon. He'd claimed the desperate need for a little exercise, which was true as far as it went, but he also had a secret desire to inspect the roads, to see if Hunith could be brought to Camelot. But it was not to be, or at least not yet. The snow had fallen for days on end, but though this particular day was clear and beautiful, the drifts on the roads ranged from a few feet to being almost as high as the neck of Arthur's horse. It would be impossible for them to wade through it for long, let alone for the comfortable wain Arthur wanted to send for Merlin's mother.

They had just turned around to make their way back to the castle when Merlin suddenly appeared in front of them, bursting out of thin air.

"Gods!" Arthur exclaimed as his horse reared. The warlock, dressed only in his nightshirt, dashed between them as if fleeing from the castle. Confusion reigned as all three men started shouting at the same time.

"MERLIN! Where - "

"Sire, he's only in his bare feet!" Leon cried, turning his horse around.

"Stop him!" Arthur ordered.

Percival pointed. "He's running to the trees!"

"Percival, get your horse in front of him to block his path," Arthur directed.

Percival urged his horse to a run and quickly got between the trees and the warlock on foot. Merlin yelled in panic and suddenly blinked out of existence, only to reappear to Arthur's left. "Leon!" the King shouted, waving his hand in this new direction. The Knight turned again, only to have Merlin cry out and disappear a second time.

"Where is he?" Arthur demanded. At the same time, Leon and Percival were both shouting out the same question, "Where'd he go?" All three looked around frantically in every direction, pulling their horses this way and that.

Leon spotted him as Merlin finally reappeared. "Over there! Behind Arthur!" They raced towards the warlock just in time to see him stagger and collapse onto the snowy ground.

"MERLIN!" Arthur cried out, leaping off his horse. He rushed his friend's side and bent down, pulling Merlin up to first a sitting position and then to his feet, supporting him by wrapping his arms around the thin man's frame and holding him to his chest in an embrace. "Help me get him up and on my horse," he ordered the two knights, wanting to waste no time in getting the warlock back inside to where it was warm.

"Arthur! Arthur! Don't let them burn me, Arthur!" Merlin cried piteously, "Please, Arthur, don't let them burn me! Don't let them burn me!"

"WHAT?" the King asked, instantly knowing what Merlin was raving about, but dumbstruck with horror all the same.

The strange burst of strength that had carried Merlin out here apparently deserted him. His eyelids fluttered and his cries trailed off into weak mumbling. "Pyre… had a pyre… don't let them burn me, Arthur. The flames hurt… it hu…"

"He's fainted," Percival said from behind Arthur.

"Here, Percival, you come around this way," Leon said with brusque efficiency. "Take Merlin from Arthur. Wait, we'll wrap him in my cloak first. Sire, you mount up and then Percival can pass him to you."

Arthur, still a little stunned, quickly got on his horse. It was not as if he hadn't known about Merlin's fear, or worried that something like this would torment the other man after what happened, but to _see_ it, to have it thrust so shocking into his face, made him feel like someone had knocked him over the head.

And, like he often did when assaulted by an overwhelming emotional situation, especially one that threatened someone he cared about, he retreated into anger.

_They did this_, he thought as he held on tightly to the sagging form in front of him, while Leon and Percival struggled to find wrap Merlin's feet, already sporting dangerous white patches, against the cold. _They hurt him. And they made all of his fears __real__. _

Leon and Percival finished and then mounted their own steeds. Arthur spurred his horse into motion and they rode home as swiftly as they could.

If Gwaine and Elyan had returned home with prisoners that day, there would have been no trials.

-x-

As Gaius warned them it might, Merlin's illness grew worse as it approached its crisis - the point where his fever would either break or he would finally succumb. His temperature rose to dizzying heights, sparking convulsions that Arthur nearly couldn't watch, and, as the day went on, they could see him visibly weaken. While the respite from convulsions and Merlin's terrified raving (as well as the fear of Merlin accidentally teleporting again - something he'd never done before even while healthy and which had nearly given Gaius a heart attack), should have been a grim sort of relief, watching the warlock sink further and further away from them was horrible.

"Is there nothing more that can be done, Gaius?" Arthur hated to ask - he knew the older man had nearly killed himself tending to Merlin while searching for a cure nearly every minute of the day - but he couldn't help it.

Gaius sighed, his eyes never leaving the face of his ward, not even to answer his King. "No, Sire. It's all down to waiting now, I'm afraid."

"How much longer…" Arthur stopped himself before he could say, 'does he have'. Instead, he asked, "how much longer will it be until the crisis comes?"

Gaius stood and reached over to place a hand on Merlin's forehead. Arthur saw his eyes flash gold again and heard him swallow thickly. "Likely by nightfall. Before dawn, most certainly," the physician answered, his voice hushed with sadness.

"Then, if you would," Arthur said, addressing them all, "I would like a few moments alone with Merlin."

The others rose at his command, even Gaius, though Arthur could tell he was reluctant to leave.

"Don't worry, Gaius. I won't be long."

"As you wish, Sire," the old man said, departing with Leon and Percival to stand outside the door.

Gwen hesitated for a moment, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure, Arthur?"

He reached up to place his hand over hers. "I'm sure, my love. Please wait outside with Gaius. I just want… _need_… some time with him alone."

Gwen bent down and kissed him. "Of course, Arthur," she said softly, her breath ever so gently ruffling his hair as she gave him a quick embrace, and Arthur could tell she was trying very hard not to cry. "I understand perfectly," she said and then she too left.

Arthur sat for some time, unable to find the words for everything he wanted to say. He looked on as Merlin's chest laboured to rise for every rattling breath, growing more feeble each time, and he realized he had never really seen Merlin all the way through an illness before. When Merlin had been poisoned by Nimuë, he had been either fighting with his father, riding out to find the Morteus flower or been locked in the dungeon. All needed actions, true, but it had meant that he'd thankfully missed witnessing most of the hardship Merlin had had to endure. As for the serket sting, he'd missed that entirely, not even finding out about it until years later.

_Well, that__'__s not completely true, is it, prat? _Merlin seemed to say in his mind. _I did tell you I__'__d been dying. I hardly see how it__'__s my fault if you__'__re too thick to believe the truth when you hear it. _

"Wake up so I can tell you to shut up, you bloody idiot," Arthur said out loud. "It's just like you to take advantage and fight with me when I can't fight you back."

_Are you sure it__'__s me and not the gear wheels in your mind slipping a few cogs? _imaginary Merlin grinned.

Arthur snorted. "No, only you could be annoying enough to irritate me when I'm trying to tell you something important."

There was no response this time.

"I'm sorry, Merlin! I'm sorry. Please talk to me again."

Arthur listened to the shallow, wheezing sound which was his only answer.

"Oh, that's wonderful. You've finally driven me insane. Are you happy now?" he asked, his voice cracking as tears sprung to the corner of his eyes.

Nothing. Just the harsh, thick sound of Merlin struggling for air.

Arthur moved from his chair to sit by Merlin on the bed. If anyone had seen him do what he did next he would have denied it till his dying day, but right then he thought nothing of reaching over and brushing Merlin's hair back from where it was plastered to his sweaty forehead.

"Someone's trimmed this," he found himself babbling. "I suppose in hopes it would be cooler for you and maybe keep the fever down. But you just can't oblige anyone, can you? Even when they're doing something for your own good."

"And now that I notice it, you seem to have been clean-shaven every day. Did someone do that for you as well? That would have been difficult seeing how much trouble you've been through most of this - tossing and turning and teleporting without warning." Truly, it would have been quite a onerous task and for a brief, irrelevant second Arthur wondered if Gaius had been doing it by magic. "Or is it that you're just too much of a girl to grow a beard?" Arthur pretended to look him over appraisingly. "Yes, I think that has to the explanation. At it's certainly what I'm going to tell everyone if you don't…"

Arthur broke off, unwilling to finish the thought. The mocking banter that had been allowing him to pull himself together once more suddenly paled and he knew he couldn't avoid things any longer.

"Merlin, I sent the others out so that I could say goodbye to you. But I can't. If the worst happens, I know I will regret it for the rest of my life, but I just can't bring myself to say those words to you."

"So this is what I will say instead: you can't go. Destiny isn't finished yet. I may be King, and magic may have been brought back to the land, but there's no Albion yet, is there? And there won't be if you die now. Kingdoms may unite, and maybe I'll even rule over all, but the _dream_ of Albion - what it's supposed to be, what it's supposed to mean to the world - will never happen without you."

"Do you understand, Merlin? Without you, the dream dies here. Destiny, history, fate - whatever you want to call it - will be unfulfilled. This will be just another kingdom, in just another time, and whatever glowing example we were supposed to be for the future will forever be lost."

"I will not order you to stay, for heaven knows you've never obeyed an order in your life. And I can't bribe you to stay since you don't seem to want anything. Therefore, I am left with trusting to your conscience. You made a promise to me once, Merlin. You said you would be happy to be my servant until the day I died."

_I said until the day __I__ died, prat._

Arthur smiled but it didn't reach his eyes; this time he knew the voice was from his own conscience and nowhere else.

"Stay, Merlin. I don't care that it may be my turn to do it alone now. Stay. Live. Because I need you to."

-x-

Merlin's fever crested that night.

And by morning he was still breathing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**.  
><strong>

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><p>.<p>

For the first two days after Merlin's fever broke, the man slept like the dead. Gaius assured the King this was a natural reaction, but until Merlin awoke in the early morning hours of the third day, Arthur despaired, secretly convinced the entire cycle was simply going to start all over again. Eventually Merlin did open a pair of bleary blue eyes, however it was only for a moment. Three weeks of illness on top of his ordeal in Dyfrig had left him painfully exhausted, and fever and the lack of any real nourishment for nearly the same amount of time had weakened him even further, so - to Arthur's great worry and annoyance - for roughly another week the warlock slipped in and out of consciousness, too dull-witted with fatigue to even really comprehend (or care) where he was.

Finally, though, on one snowy afternoon, Arthur heard a deep intake of breath. He quickly rushed from the table where he'd been working and leaned over Merlin to stare intently at his face.

"Merlin? Can you hear me?"

Merlin mouthed, "Ar…thur?" but no sound emerged. He swallowed to try again, only to cough harshly.

"Wait, Merlin. Let me get you some water." Arthur quickly filled a goblet and then worked a hand under Merlin's shoulders to lift his head high enough to drink. Even this small effort was tiring and by the time Arthur took the goblet away, he could see Merlin breathing hard.

"Ar…thur? Wha…"

"Easy, my friend. Get your breath back," Arthur said as he pulled a chair closer and sat down by Merlin's bedside.

"No…but…"

"Listen to me, Merlin. Everything is all right. You've been very ill, but you're getting better."

"Ill? I don't… don't understand…"

"Don't worry about it now. We'll tell you all about soon. Please just rest for now."

"No! No…I…" Arthur saw the panic come into the other man's face. "Can't, Arthur…remember…why...?"

"Shh, shh. It's nothing to concern yourself about. You're exhausted, that's all. You've been ill for almost a month now. You simply need to get your strength back again."

Merlin stared at Arthur, positively horrified. "A_ month_?"

"Yes, but Gaius says you're going to be perfectly fine. Do you understand? You are going to be _fine_."

"Fine?"

"Yes, my friend."

Merlin considered this for a few moments, but then he muttered, "Something… there was something else."

"Now's not the time to brood on it, Merlin. You need to rest."

Merlin gasped and Arthur saw his eyes go wide with realization. "Gwaine and Percival!" Merlin shouted.

"They're all right, Merlin."

"No, Arthur! You have to listen to me!" Merlin cried and began to struggle to rise. Arthur had to grab his friend's arms and hold him down.

"Merlin! Don't!"

"Arthur, no! Something's wrong! There's something dreadfully wrong with this place! We have to find Gwaine and Percival before they get hurt and - "

"Merlin! You're in Camelot! You're safe!"

"Arthur, PLEASE! We have to find them!" Merlin begged. If Merlin hadn't been as weak as a newborn kitten, Arthur wasn't sure if he could have held him.

"MERLIN!" Arthur yelled and shook the frantic man sharply.

Merlin froze and stared up at Arthur.

"Merlin, they're _fine_. They're perfectly safe."

Merlin's breathing quickened and he started to shake. From the way his eyes were darting wildly around the room, Arthur realized just how badly disorientated Merlin was.

"No…"

"Yes. Merlin, look at me."

"Arthur, I don't… _Please, _what is going on? Why…" the dark-haired man pleaded.

"_Look at me_, Merlin."

Merlin did.

"You were in a bad place. You, Gwaine and Percival. You were attacked. Do you remember that?"

"At a… at a feast?"

"Yes. You had gone to the village of Dyfrig to save the people from a plague they said was caused by a witch."

"But it wasn't."

"That's right."

"But… they were still sick. I didn't understand."

"I know. It was all a trick, Merlin."

Arthur saw the exact moment the truth dawned on Merlin. And he hoped he would never have to see a look like that on anyone's face ever again.

"It was me. They were after me," Merlin said and Arthur heard a worrying flatness replace the former panic in his friend's voice.

Arthur nodded. "Yes. It was all a trick to get you to Dyfrig."

Merlin said nothing for a few moments. Finally he asked, "but why didn't they simply lie and then attack me as soon as we got there? Why… poison their neighbours?"

Arthur sighed. "Because you're an all-powerful sorcerer and Gwaine and Percival are two of the strongest knights in the kingdom. They could never have put up any attack you couldn't take care of with a wave of your hand. Even if they took you by surprise, there was always the chance you could fight back, so they… did what they did… in order to even the odds as best they could. They wore you down and then held the "feast" in your honour in order to take you off guard. They drugged the wine and then came behind you and struck you on the head. Likely they struck you more than once so that you would remain unconscious the whole time."

"But, luckily for you," Arthur went on, "you were talking to Kilgharrah in your head when it happened and when you broke off so abruptly he got suspicious. Do you remember that part?"

Merlin thought on it for a moment but then shook his head.

"Well, the dragons saved the three of you. And they flew you all the way home."

Merlin gazed dully at Arthur. "They tied me to a stake, didn't they? The townspeople, I mean."

Arthur hesitated. "You remember that?"

"Sort of. One moment I was at the feast and the next I woke up screaming because something _hurt_. Something to do with my feet. And then I saw the pyre built around me and I could feel the stake behind me…" Merlin's voice suddenly shot up higher and his words started tumbling out in a rush, "But then…_oh gods,_ then it was like black snakes shooting up through my legs and straight to my heart! It felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside and I was sick and I couldn't breathe! Arthur, I couldn't _breathe! _And then something… My hands! They did something to my hands! And then I screamed again and again and everything went black and," Merlin's breath began to hitch "… and… and _everything stops_!"

Arthur laid a hand on Merlin's wrist and gripped tightly. "Please, Merlin, be calm. Take a deep breath. That's it. That's good."

Merlin slowly got a hold of himself with Arthur's help. "But what happened to me?" he asked when he was control of himself once more.

"Merlin, they didn't tie you to the stake. They _nailed_ you to it."

Merlin stared at Arthur with complete incomprehension. _"What!"_

"They made spikes. Magic resistant spikes, and then, when they drove them into your flesh, the spells they used were forced into your blood."

Merlin turned his head away suddenly, unable to look Arthur in the eye and Arthur knew it was because he was frightened. "Arthur… my… my magic?"

"As far as Gaius can tell, your magic is fine. But you're not to use it yet!" Arthur added quickly in warning. "Gaius said your body isn't strong enough right now to handle the channelling of power. It could shake you apart."

"You're not lying to me, are you? Trying to keep me calm until I'm stronger?"

Arthur smiled in reassurance. "No. Besides, you teleported in your delirium, so we've got some proof you're still the same magical idiot you ever were."

Merlin covered his face with his hands and a shudder went through him; Arthur suspected he was trying very hard not to cry in his relief.

"I think we should finish the story later," Arthur said gently. "You need your rest."

"No, please, I'd like… I'd like to hear it all now."

And so the story came out. Until they could interrogate the townspeople of Dyfrig, some of it of course was mere speculation, but Arthur felt certain Merlin was still alive because his attackers believed the only true way to kill a sorcerer was with fire. Otherwise, they would have struck the fatal blow right at the feast and had done with it. As for why Gwaine and Percival had been kept alive, that was less clear, though the two men gathered from the "sermon" that the miller of Dyfrig - who seemed to have been the ringleader - gave to the people, it was likely so unbelievers would see the two of them freed from the evil sorcerer's spell at the moment of the enchanter's death.

Arthur was actually shocked the wooden cage they'd been kept in had managed to hold the two knights after that little explanation.

In any case, the townspeople's superstition had been their undoing, for it was the time it took to build the pyre and assemble the people in the town's square that had given Kilgharrah and Aithusa time to race to the rescue. (Arthur reflected with grim satisfaction on the picture he had in his head of the townspeople's panic when the fearsome spectacle of the Great Dragon appeared in the sky above them.)

As Gwaine had told it, while Kilgharrah rained fire down on the people, causing them to flee (and scorching a few where they stood - a fact Arthur omitted to tell Merlin), Aithusa - seeing that he couldn't pull "Father" away from the stake without hurting him - slowed only long enough to blow out the fire beneath Merlin's feet before flying to the cage where Gwaine and Percival were trapped. With one swipe of his powerful foreleg, the not-so-little white dragon tore the wall of the cage to splintery bits like an enraged bear ripping apart a wicker basket.

Once freed, the two knights dashed to their friend's side. Furiously they knocked the kindling and broken branches of the pyre aside and Gwaine, the first there, reached around Merlin's waist and held him up, taking the pressure of the warlock's weight off of the spikes, leaving it to Percival to pull them out.

Arthur skipped over Percival's description of this in his tale to Merlin, but the King of Camelot would never forget it. The ravaged mess of his Court Sorcerer's hands and feet, the sight of the spike pulling the flesh and muscle grotesquely upwards as Percival pulled…

The blood.

The wounds would have been far more damaging than most people would assume. It was possible Merlin could have bled out right there, and might have had Aithusa not started to heal him.

But Kilgharrah had stopped him. "No, young one, just enough to let him survive the flight."

Gwaine had screamed bloody murder at the dragon, but Kilgharrah had ignored him and the moment Aithusa nodded, he had scooped Percival up in one clawed grasp and Gwaine and Merlin in the other.

"Why did the dragons not heal him there?" Arthur had asked.

"Kilgharrah said that no matter how much he and Aithusa could do, Merlin would still need to be treated by Gaius, but if they healed him first, then they wouldn't have had the strength to fly us home. The trip would have taken days and Merlin wouldn't have survived out in the cold, him being as sick and weak as he was," Gwaine explained.

"Besides," Percival put in, "he and Aithusa would have been vulnerable while healing Merlin, so it was better for all of us to have the protection of you and the rest of the knights here."

"So the dragons brought us home and then healed me," Merlin said, drawing Arthur back into the present.

"Yes. We have a lot to thank them for."

Merlin nodded, but to Arthur he looked somehow pensive.

"I shouldn't have told you all of this."

"No, it's better that I know. It's just… hard to know what to make of it all."

Arthur belatedly realized that while he and everyone else had had a month to digest what had had happened, to Merlin this was all devastatingly new. Not to mention the fact it concerned _him_ more than anyone else - after all, it had been _Merlin_ the people of Dyfrig were trying to kill.

"Do your best not to dwell on it, Merlin. Just remember you're safe and it's all over with now."

Merlin looked less than convinced, but his eyelids were beginning to droop and he was simply too tired to argue.

-x-

Arthur had always assumed that a recovering Merlin would be much like Dragoon: tetchy, cranky, wilful and - all in all - a querulous and whiny pain in the arse.

Right now, however, it seemed as though that was a state of affairs Arthur could only wish for.

The two men sat side by side at the window, staring silently out at the overcast sky. Or at least it looked like that's what they were doing. In truth, Arthur's eyes were on his friend and Merlin… well, he couldn't tell what Merlin was looking at. Slumped awkwardly in the chair, still too weak to even sit up properly, the warlock's stare seemed to fall on nothing.

"Are you tired?" Arthur asked him, but got no answer. He tried again. "Merlin?"

"Eh? What was that, Arthur?" Merlin asked listlessly, not even bothering to look his King.

"Are you tired?"

"Somewhat, yes."

Arthur turned to the servants replacing the linen on Merlin's bed. "Are you nearly done?"

"Yes, Sire," the two women answered together with a simultaneous bob of their heads. "Won't be but a moment more," the older one finished.

"When you're finished, please leave us."

"Yes, Sire," they answered together.

When the two women had departed, Arthur said to Merlin, "Are all servants trained to answer in chorus?"

Merlin turned his head to look at Arthur, haunted eyes filled with confusion as if Arthur was demanding him to write a speech in the middle of a nightmare. "What?"

"Nevermind, Merlin," Arthur said softly. "It was nothing important. Now let's get you back into bed." Easing one arm behind Merlin's back and another under the warlock's knees, he lifted Merlin, blankets and all, and carried him over to the bed.

That Merlin let him without so much as a protest frightened Arthur.

Time and events change us all, and for some it's for the better. Arthur rarely thought twice about openly showing affection these days. While a younger Arthur might have balked at helping his servant (or at least complained interminably), and the Arthur of even a year ago would've still been embarrassed enough to make some sarcastic comment to hide his worry, this man standing here now was a father. The changes begun by becoming a King and a husband solidified and took hold. It wasn't just that Arthur wanted to give his precious Llacheu the warmth that had been missing from his own childhood (though that was part of it), it was also that being a father had strengthened him; without knowing it, he had learned that protecting and providing for those who needed you made you more manly, rather than otherwise. Discomfort be damned, if the ones you loved needed something, it was your job to give it. And when you did, it felt good - it meant you were strong enough for a person to depend on.

So Arthur thought little of whatever he had to do to help his friend, but it was the state of mind of the man forced to accept this help that worried him now. As he gently put Merlin down and pulled the bed coverings over him, Arthur once again saw the humiliation and frustration flash across the other man's face. Yet Merlin said nothing. Well, nothing except to give a rather strained, "Thank you." Arthur desperately wanted to believe it was just Merlin trying not to be ungrateful, or perhaps even the effects of simple exhaustion, but to Arthur it felt like Merlin had given up somehow, and that chilled the King to his very core.

"Think nothing of it," Arthur said, purposely without a word about girls' petticoats, damsels in distress, or brides needing help over the threshold. He waited to see if Merlin would notice and point it out, but the warlock only closed his eyes for a moment before asking for some water.

"Your back teeth must be floating by now," Arthur joked as he poured some water from a nearby pitcher into a goblet and handed it to Merlin.

"Yeah," Merlin agreed wanly, but he drank eagerly even though his arms trembled.

"Easy," Arthur cautioned, "you'll make yourself sick."

Merlin snorted and then began to choke on the water. Arthur rushed to him and pounded him on the back.

"_Make_ myself sick? Is that what you're worried about?" Merlin spluttered and… _was he laughing_? "I'm sorry, have you been somewhere else for the last month, you clot-pole?"

"I - "

"I don't need to make myself sick!" Merlin suddenly shouted, his mood changing in a fraction of an instant. "I'm special. Apparently there's _a whole world _of people out there chomping at the bit to kill _me! _So what's a tad too much water going to do, eh?"

"Merlin, stop."

"Oh, be careful of drinking too quickly," Merlin went on with a bitterness Arthur had never heard from him before. "You might make yourself sick and then where would you be? You wouldn't be in any kind of shape for when people want to nail you to a stake and s…s…et…you on fi…" Merlin stammered and then, like a sudden dark cloudburst, a fierce torrent of tears erupted from the man.

Quickly Arthur strode over to stand by the head of Merlin's bed and pulled his friend closer. As Merlin wept helplessly against his side, Arthur held him and stroked the warlock's dark hair and waited for the storm to subside.

"They poisoned their own _families_, Arthur," Merlin wailed. "They hated me _that_ much. They hated me even after I'd tried to save them."

"I know, my friend. I know."

-x-

After awhile Merlin's sobs quieted. Arthur felt Merlin's head press itself tighter against him and then a small, hopelessly worn-out and broken voice confessed, "I just don't know what to do anymore, Arthur."

"_You _don't have to do anything. Do you hear me? You leave that to me now. The others and I will make it right."

"Ar_thur_," Merlin said, and a bit of his old exasperation crept into his voice, "not even _you_ can force people to accept me."

"I'm truly heartened by the faith you have in me, Merlin," Arthur said sarcastically and was thrilled to hear a faint chuckle in reply. "Really. It's astonishing that we haven't created Albion yet."

Merlin straightened and pulled away from Arthur with a jaw-creaking yawn. "I'm sorry, my King. Maybe we can get to it after I've had a bit of a lie-down."

Arthur sighed dramatically as he helped Merlin ease himself down to a more horizontal position. "If you must," he answered. "But I hope you will be thankful you have such an indulgent sovereign." He waited for the typical witty rejoinder, but it didn't come.

"Merlin?"

The warlock's eyes were open, but from his gaze he was lost once more in the same melancholic numbness that had been afflicting him since he'd awoken from his illness and heard what had happened.

Arthur laid a hand lightly on Merlin's shoulder. "Do you trust me, Merlin?"

A slow nod.

"Then trust me to help. And remember that no matter what happened, or what will happen, the others and I will be here for you."

Merlin's face tightened and Arthur wondered what he'd said wrong. "You're making me feel guilty," the sick man finally whispered.

"No, Merlin, there's no need to think like that. You're not letting us down. What I'm trying to say is why don't you lean on us for awhile. Relax and let us watch over you until you feel more yourself."

"I'll try, Arthur."

"Good. Now go to sleep."

Merlin dutifully closed his eyes and his King kept watch while he slept.

-x-

November turned into December and the kingdom started preparing for the Yule festival, but for Camelot's Court Sorcerer and those closest to him things remained much as they had. Though Arthur suspected Merlin was trying his best not to dampen his and Gwen's first Yuletide with their son, the warlock's state of mind did not improve and, try though he would, when he wasn't at the mercy of turbulent bursts of anger or overwhelming sadness, he remained mired in a silent, unblinking despondency.

Gauis said to give him time, that much of the problem was his physical condition and that they should wait till he was a little stronger before they started trying to pry him out of his gloom, but Arthur couldn't help but worry.

One day, when Merlin was sitting at the window again, looking out over the Lower Town and appearing a little more thoughtful than haunted, Arthur asked him what he was thinking about.

"Your father," Merlin said to Arthur's great surprise.

"Because… _because of the pyre?_" Arthur asked, feeling like he'd been slapped in the face from out of nowhere. Certainly, it was a reasonable connection to make, but despite his horror at Uther's actions towards sorcerers, there was still a part of Arthur's heart where his father was still just his father.

Merlin turned his head sharply to look at Arthur. "No! No, I didn't mean it like that! I'm sorry, Arthur. No, I meant… I don't know. It's more as if, for the first time, I can actually understand him a bit."

"What do you mean?"

"It's hard to explain. It's as though I can see how he became so… I don't know what the best word would be. Not fearful, exactly. Consumed by his conviction, is maybe closer. Consumed by his conviction that sorcerers were all around and plotting against him."

Arthur reflected on this sadly, remembering how his once strong father had slowly deteriorated into a man constantly seeing his enemies in every shadow. Much like the people of Dyfrig, Uther Pendragon had been undone by his own fears and hatred. For most, it was easy to dismiss the matter and say that he had only got what he deserved, but for his son it had been nothing but excruciating to watch. That anyone, but especially someone like Merlin who would've had the most reason to hate the former ruler of Camelot, would even make the attempt to remember the man with something other than hate, warmed something inside the young King.

"_Merlin, did you hate my father?__"__ Arthur had once asked, not long after Merlin had revealed his powers._

_Merlin had hesitated. __"__Sometimes,__"__ he__'__d finally admitted. __"__He killed a lot of people unjustly and hurt even more. He would have killed me if he__'__d found out and that made me always afraid of him. And he persecuted my father and chased him away to suffer in isolation and so we never even had a chance to know each other.__"_

_Arthur had felt sick at hearing that. While Merlin had told him of Balinor when Arthur had made him explain the continued existence of the dragon he, the Prince, had supposedly killed, Arthur hadn__'__t dwelt on what that had meant for Merlin growing up. At that moment, King Arthur had felt the thick prat Merlin had always accused him of being and, at the same time, humbled that Merlin had been both honest enough to say __'__sometimes__'__ and compassionate enough that he hadn__'__t said __'__every single goddamned minute of the day__'__._

"_Why don__'__t you hate him all of the time?__"__ Arthur had pressed further._

"_Because he honestly cared for his children. He may not have been the best father to you or Morgana, but it was hard to look at him crying for you and still believe that there was nothing but evil to him. And he did try to be a just ruler in his own way. He was a hard man, but that__'__s because that__'__s what he thought the kingdom needed him to be. In his mind, if he was soft, he couldn__'__t protect his people effectively. And it cost him to be like that, but he still chose to do it anyway.__"_

"Is it because of the things you told me long ago?" the present Arthur asked.

"No."

"Then what?"

"It's just… well, I look down at the Lower Town and I wonder what they're going to do to me."

"Gods, Merlin!"

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I know it's wrong and foolish and not good at all, but I can't seem to help myself. And that's why I can sympathize with your father - because it's such an easy trap to fall into. You don't even know it's happening until it already has."

Arthur leapt to his feet and stepped in front of Merlin. "I don't care, Merlin!" he shouted. "You're to stop thinking like that this very minute!"

"Arthur - "

"Merlin, I have given you very few commands as your King, but make no mistake, I say this now as your sovereign and liege Lord: you WILL cease thinking like that! I will banish you from this kingdom before I watch you slowly poison your heart bit by bit like my father did!"

Arthur's unexpected rage shocked the fragile Merlin. "But Arthur - " he gulped.

"NO, MERLIN! I WILL NOT SEE YOU DESTROY YOURSELF LIKE THAT!"

Merlin nodded slowly and no more was said about it.

But Arthur did not sleep at all that night.

.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's note: Don't read the following if you don't want spoilers for future chapters, or are turned off by authorial denigrating of a perfectly good chapter in order to whine.<em>**

_Well, once again I must apologize for the wait. I could make up excuses and say that it was because I was running a contest in another fandom (as well as writing for it), but the truth is I just had so much freaking trouble with this chapter. I had wanted to write a bit from Merlin's POV, but it just wouldn't happen - the stubborn sod wouldn't talk to me! - so I had to give up and go back to Arthur. Then there was the lack of things like action, changes of scenery, other characters... really, I'll be amazed if you're not bored out of your skull right now. And then there was the fact that - once again, like an idiot - I was surprised by the story not ending in this chapter. After all of this angst, I was looking forward to getting to the party (because there's going to be skating and babies and drunken dragons and sea shanties and all kinds of good things) and I think that stalled me a bit, because I got so focused on that, I was at a complete loss as to how to actually get the story there._

_Anyway, enough moaning. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

**.**

* * *

><p><strong>.<br>**

"I agree. But the problem is, he doesn't understand the full implications."

Over the years, Merlin's behaviour had often given Arthur reason to quirk an eyebrow. According to Merlin, this is because the ways of magic are intricate and beyond your average prat's comprehension. According to Arthur, this is because the ways of idiots are too convoluted and based on wispy bursts of nonsense for normal people to sort out.

For instance now, Merlin seemed to be arguing with the air. Arthur considered it might be with Kilgharrah or Aithusa, but Merlin didn't usually talk out loud unless the dragon in question was actually present.

"No, I don't want to, but… well, you know."

At this point, the more well-mannered of Arthur's subjects might have wondered why their King was stooping so low as to eavesdrop, but Arthur had lately found himself in a bit of conundrum. His outburst to Merlin about banishing the warlock if said warlock did not rid himself of his suspicious outlook, had been utterly sincere and heartfelt and the King, quite frankly, could simply not bring himself to regret it. If Merlin were to become like Uther, it would devastate Arthur, not to mention it would place his subjects in possible danger, for a warlock who sees the people as a constant threat would not be a safe individual to keep around.

However, his exploding at a man only trying to express an honest fear to a friend had most definitely been a strategic mistake. Now, whenever Arthur tried to have a serious conversation with Merlin, he received nothing but safe, banal reassurances in return. Quickly Arthur realized that just when Merlin needed someone to confide in the most, his King had made it dangerous for him to be in any way honest.

Hence, the eavesdropping. It hadn't been intentional, but when Arthur had come to tell Merlin the Court had had word that Gwaine and Elyan were on their way home and heard Merlin apparently talking to himself, he hesitated just outside the door.

"It's more complicated than that. It's starting to affect your parents and that hurts me."

"Plah?"

_Plah? _Arthur wondered and took a quick peek around the wall, only to see something that made him grin. Merlin wasn't talking to himself, he was talking to Llacheu! The baby sat on the bed beside Merlin, staring up at him, for all the world looking as if he was seriously weighing every word of the conversation.

"You don't know the things they're saying."

"Pfff."

"Oh, you're as bad as your father," Merlin dismissed. "There's little going on in your two heads beyond a mindless desire to bash things and the constant question of 'What is there for me to eat?' However, I will admit he's mostly got his drooling problem under control," Merlin added as he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the baby's chin. "Sometimes I think you're nothing but a bucket of slobber, Llacheu my lad."

"Tszizzz," the baby snickered and waved an arm up and down as if he'd got Merlin with a great prank.

"Oh, _funny_," Merlin said with a laugh. "You've got your father's sense of humour too, I see."

"Fnah!" the baby said in response.

"If we might _just possibly _return to the subject at hand?"

"Sah min," the baby said and Arthur would have sworn the child had nodded graciously.

"Look, my little Imp, what I'm trying to say is…." Merlin's voice broke off strangely here. "What I want you to know is, if I go, it's not because of you."

_Go? _Arthur was horrified.

"I'm not saying I'm going to, but… well, it's these accusations you see. They think I've enchanted everyone. Which is stupid because if I went around enchanting people all the time, I hardly think things like this would have happened, now would they? No, no one thinks of that! Anyway, if it was just about me, I'd ride it out, but they're talking about your mother now. You know, because we've been friends for so many years. In any case, I won't say what, but it's bad, and if I don't go away, eventually it's going to reflect on her. And on your father's rule! If your father can't rule effectively because people are spreading scurrilous gossip behind his back and he loses the respect of his Lords, well then, how's the kingdom going to fare then, eh?"

Arthur seethed. People were talking about his_ Gwen_? _His _Gwen! And Merlin! Two of the three people dearest to him in the world!

Llacheu answered for him with an angry "Blrrzt!"

"And who, just who, taught you to blow a raspberry?" Merlin asked. Arthur could tell he was trying to make his tone light, but he could still hear the heartbreak in the other man's voice.

"Fah fru!" Llacheu blatted.

"Hmmm, I bet it was Gwaine."

"Bah prpt geh."

"Well now, that's hardly a cogent argument, is it?"

Llacheu didn't answer. He was suddenly too busy flapping his arms ecstatically, completely engrossed with smacking his tiny palms against the bed.

"Are you even listening to me anymore?" Merlin with mock exasperation.

Llacheu laughed as he toppled backwards on the bed and started sucking his toe.

"Yes, yes, fine. You've obviously moved onto other things."

"Hezzizzz."

For the first time in weeks, Arthur heard Merlin let out a genuine laugh. "Oh now, what's that smirk for?" the warlock asked.

"Bizzzt!"

"I see. 'I'm too cute and you will do nothing against me?' Is that it?"

"Mah!" the baby confirmed.

"You think so, do you? You think so? Smug little monster! Well, you'd better give me this belly," Merlin said and, as Arthur watched, the dark-haired man wiggled his hand on Llacheu's tummy, causing the baby to giggle riotously. "Yes, yes, you give me this belly. I don't think you need it anymore. It's just sitting here, isn't it? Oh, and you know what else? I think it's a little dry. And I think if you can blow a raspberry, I can too!"

Arthur backed away, loathe to disturb the pair and their bizarre bonding with one another. He spared one moment to laugh silently at the sound of his son's joyous hysterics as Merlin blew raspberries against his tummy, before going off to talk to Gaius.

-x-

"Is he planning to leave?"

King and Physician were sitting at the table in the latter's quarters. Gaius sighed sadly as he ground some herbs with a mortar and pestle. "He's said nothing definite to me, Sire, but I know he's troubled about whether his presence is more hurtful than helpful to the Kingdom."

Arthur scowled. "Because of these rumours?"

"Amongst other things."

"What other things?"

"He's worried that hatred towards him will lead to violence and lawlessness, perhaps even retaliations against other people with magic. And he wonders if he's the right person to be Court Sorcerer."

"Oh Gods, he doesn't, does he? The idiot! Whatever does he think that for?"

"It's complicated, Sire. The hatred against magic is - truthfully - not just your father's doing. People without magic have an innate fear of it, and to some extent it's very understandable. Magic is a mysterious force and one they don't know how to defend themselves against. It's one thing for a sorcerer to _say_ they won't harm anyone, or even prove it by their actions, but it's another for people to feel assured of that. To them magic is insidious, a danger that can sneak upon them in the night without their even knowing, and worse, a danger that could take over their very minds and perhaps taint even their souls," Gaius explained. "Therefore, for them to trust a sorcerer is exceedingly difficult. It takes knowing that person deeply. We, as Merlin's friends, have a hard time understanding how anyone could doubt him, but we have to remember that we have years of intimate knowledge of him that the people don't."

"Ironically, however," Gaius went on, "people also want to see the Court Sorcerer as a powerful supernatural being, not a vulnerable young man. They neither trust nor respect Merlin's hopes of being accepted, of being their friend. To them, a Court Sorcerer should be mysterious and elusive, not to mention older. He should inspire fear and awe."

"They'd _rather _fear him?" Arthur asked with astonishment.

"Yes and no," Gaius replied, ceasing with his grinding momentarily to look his King in the eyes. "And that's the problem: they really don't know what they want of Merlin. Some are terrified of him, some hate him because they're zealots by nature, some are suspicious of his attempts to win them over and wish he'd be more aloof, and some feel all three. When you come right down to it, all they seem to know, or feel they know, is that they were happier and less confused when magic was outlawed."

Arthur was astounded. "Gaius, you don't think we should go back to how things were, do you?"

Gaius smiled. "No, Sire. For those of us with magic are your subjects too, and if history has taught us nothing else, it's that when one group of people puts itself above another, _all_ suffer."

Arthur nodded, a smile of his own upon his face. It had taken him years to come to grips with magic, he was not about to turn backwards now.

"But what about Merlin? Why does he not think he's the right person for the job anymore? Personally, I can think of no one better."

"Nor can I."

"Has his confidence been shaken that badly then?" Arthur asked quietly.

Gaius's eyes took a far away look. "It has been sorely tested, Sire. And he's… tired. For so many years he hid, right from the time he was old enough to know he was different until the day you repealed the law. Years of terror and fear, years of always being on the outside, years of fighting by himself, years of having to swallow every grief and hurt because to share them would require too many explanations - honestly, Arthur, I don't know if even you and I can truly understand how much it took out of him. And all of those years, the thing that kept him going was the dream of the day when he'd be free. I'd hear him telling himself that it still wouldn't be easy, as if to keep himself from depending on hope too much, but what else could he do? He had to cling to that hope to survive, but as he did it grew more and more unrealistic and after three years of having this hope kicked in his face and reality be even worse than his nightmares… he's exhausted, Arthur. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. He's exhausted and heartsick to his very core."

Arthur placed a hand on the older man's shoulder. "It's been hard for you too, hasn't it?"

"You're a father now, Arthur. You can imagine what it's like to want to protect the person you love most, and yet not be able to do so. I only hope you won't ever have to watch people treat Llacheu so cruelly."

"Oh, my friend, I am so very sorry."

Gaius pulled himself together and patted Arthur on the shoulder as he rose and went over to get more herbs from the shelf. "It is hardly your fault, Arthur. And I know you've been just as worried as I've been."

"I still regret that it's something the both of you have had to go through. Neither of you deserve it."

"No, no we don't," Gaius agreed as he sat down again. "But it's something all three of us must now deal with."

"Of course. But how? I don't think it would do any good for us to let him leave, but on the other hand, I don't want to hold him here if leaving is the best thing for him."

"I don't believe he truly wants to leave. It has more to do with what I said before - he's afraid if he stays he'll cause more problems for you than he'll solve. And he's not entirely wrong about the dangerous posed by these awful rumours."

"I'll handle those. Don't you worry about that!" Arthur had no idea how, but he was filled with determination on that score.

"The other problem is what I said before. The people - or at least the non-magical ones - don't want a Court Sorcerer - "

"That's too bloody bad!" Arthur interrupted angrily. "The Kingdom needs a Court Sorcerer. I'll be damned if I let us go without magical protection and I'll be even more damned if I ask anyone to fight alone from behind the scenes again!"

"But if they must have one," Gaius went on, ignoring Arthur's exclamation though he was extremely pleased by it, "should it be one who is more… aloof? And can that person continue to be Merlin?"

"What do you mean?"

"Merlin feels that a more mysterious Court Sorcerer would not only make the people a little more comfortable, but safer as well."

"I don't understand. Isn't Merlin supposed to be the most powerful warlock who ever lived? How can anyone else keep us safer than him?"

"It's a matter of perception, Sire. Merlin can stop an enemy if anyone can, but lives are still at risk if that enemy attacks."

"But if they were too intimidated to attack in the first place, by a scary sorcerer the extent of whose powers aren't known, rather than say, an idiot who makes coloured bubbles for the children, then lives could be spared," Arthur said, frowning as he caught on to the dilemma. "But surely, that problem will lessen as Merlin gets older and more stories circulate about how powerful he really is."

"Perhaps. But could Merlin survive that long? With every attack that comes, he's at risk. He accepts it without question, but I'm the one left to worry."

"True," Arthur nodded grimly.

"And… well, could he be happy being so… _apart? _Merlin is a kind-hearted boy who's spent his whole life pining for acceptance. He's spent too much time alone already - a servant amongst knights, a secret warlock amongst warriors. He had me to talk about magic with, but I couldn't go with him on quests or hunts. And it was rare when I could help him stand against a monster or an army even right here in the castle. He suffers enough not having more of his own kind around, should he really be asked to shut himself off further? Limiting his interactions with people to us, Gwen and the knights?"

"No. That would… destroy him," Arthur said with horror. "But what do we do, Gaius? The problem seems insurmountable."

"A long time ago, I treated a Roman sailor for a shoulder wound. While I did, he told me about meeting a man from a land far, far to the East - a place of fables called Cathay*. When I cautioned him that he was shoulder would take much work to heal properly, discouraging work that would take weeks perhaps, he told me that the people of Cathay had an expression that he never forgot: The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."

"But what does it mean, Gaius?"

"In this case, Arthur, I would take it to mean that whatever your problem, focus on taking the first step and try not to grow disheartened by picturing the entire journey in front of you. My advice is start small. Talk to Merlin. Encourage him that things will get better. Remind him of the friends he does have rather than letting him brood on the ones he doesn't. Maybe we should even just start by doing something to cheer him."

"Thank you, Gaius," Arthur said as he rose to his feet. "You've given me a lot to think about."

-x-

Talking to Merlin was not a rousing success.

Llacheu had been taken away by his nursemaid but before Arthur could get three words out, there was another young visitor for Merlin. What looked like a large white sheet fluttered by the window, then Arthur heard the rather disturbing sound of four large sets of dragon claws clamping onto the wall outside and Aithusa poked his head through the window, easily breaking the inside lock but thankfully not any of the panes. (Arthur didn't want to think about the crumbled stonework outside nor what the dragon might be latching his tail to _this _time. And by the Gods, had the walls actually shaken when he flew into them?)

"FATHER!" the white dragon shouted ecstatically. "Father, I found you!"

"Yes, dear one," Merlin agreed ruefully. Arthur caught his eye and knew that he was picturing the damage to wall as well.

Aithusa pulled his head outside again and yelled down to someone in the courtyard. "I found Father! He's awake!"

"Is he all right, you silly great beast?" a voice yelled back. Gwaine.

Aithusa popped his head in again. "Are you all right, Father?" he asked anxiously, breathless with shock that he had forgotten the most important question.

Merlin chuckled. "Yes, Aithusa." Even Arthur couldn't help but smile at the dragon's sudden cry of happiness.

"Father, Father, I have so much to tell you! After Kilgharrah and I healed you we flew just over the hills to rest in the field by that nice farm with all of the juicy cows - "

Arthur sighed. _I hope the farmer knows to come here for restitution__…__._

"But then after we rested for a day or two, we saw Gwaine and Elyan's tracks to that bad town where the people hurt you, so we decided to go along and help."

_Uh oh, _two men though simultaneously.

"And we found all the bad men and caught them and brought them back here, but they kept causing trouble so we put them in a big net and Kilgharrah carried it _in his mouth! _But they were still being bad so I told them that if they didn't stop being naughty I would _EAT THEM!__"_

"AITHUSA!" Merlin shouted, positively scandalized. "That was very wrong of you!"

"Why? I wasn't telling a lie. I would eat them! I would gobble up anyone who hurt you!"

Merlin buried his face in his hands. "That's not a good thing, Aithusa," he whimpered feebly.

"But Father…"

"Oh, Aithusa," Merlin said, lifting his face up again. "I know you meant well, but you must promise me you will never make a threat like that again. Not to anyone! Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Father," Aithusa said contritely.

"And you!" Merlin snapped, turning to Arthur. "You snickering like a loony doesn't help!"

"C'mon, Merlin," Arthur protested, but was shocked when Merlin's dramatics suddenly turned to genuine anger.

"No! I'm trying to make him responsible and you're undermining me! People are going to get scared of him if he keeps making threats like that! They'll chase him away or try to hurt him! Or Heaven knows what else!" Merlin cried out furiously.

"All right, Merlin. All right. I'm sorry," Arthur said sincerely in hopes of calming Merlin down before he alarmed Aithusa any further. The white dragon's eyes had widened and he was flapping his wings in consternation.

"Father, Father, I'm sorry! I'll be good! I won't eat _anyone!__"_

Merlin looked away and tried to get himself under control. "This is just what I was talking to Gaius about," he said bitterly. "As long as I'm around, things like this are going to happen."

"No, Merlin!" Arthur shouted. "Stop that talk right now!"

"Why, Arthur? Will you banish me for that too?"

"Banish Father?" Aithusa flapped his wings even harder and Arthur had a sudden fear the dragon was going to ram his way through the window frame and bring down half the wall on their heads.

"Go to Kilgharrah, Aithusa!" Merlin ordered.

"_Father__…"_the dragon whined.

"NOW, Aithusa!"

The white dragon pouted, but pulled his claws out of the wall (_Gods, there goes more of the masonry, _Arthur thought) and flew off.

Tense silence sat between the two men for a few moments. Finally, Arthur began, "Merlin - "

"I don't want to hear it, Arthur!"

"Merlin, you idiot - "

"NO! I AM NOT AN IDIOT!" Merlin bellowed. "I am sick and tired of people acting like there's something wrong with me! I am not mentally afflicted! I am not stupid! I am not odd AND I AM NOT A MONSTER IN ANY WAY! I NEVER WAS!"

Arthur gaped at his friend in shock.

Merlin swiped an arm across his eyes. "I'm not. I never was," he repeated hoarsely.

Gwaine, with his typical impeccable timing, chose this moment to burst through the door. "Merlin, mate! How are - " the roguish knight laughed, halting abruptly when two stunned, hollow-eyed faces over at him.

"All right… Bad timing?"

"No, no," Merlin assured him, shaking his head. "I'm so glad to see you again, Gwaine," the warlock said cheerfully and if there was a suspicious sniffle, it was ignored in the face of his warm smile.

"Merlin, my friend," Gwaine said seriously, "you look like death!"

Merlin's face dropped and Arthur cursed Gwaine for an imbecile.

"I'm sorry, mate," Gwaine hurried to backtrack. "No, you look fine. Ignore me, I've been warming myself at the tavern, but obviously it hasn't unfrozen my brain."

"Obviously," Arthur muttered under his breath.

"Anyway, I'm sure Queenie here will want to hear my report, so I can't stay long. I just couldn't wait to give you this. Here, hold out your hand."

"What is it?" Merlin asked as he reached out an open palm.

"It's the little wooden dragon you used to wear around your neck. It must've been torn off when they attacked you. I found it in the snow and brought it back for you."

Merlin stared up at the knight with tears glistening in his eyes. "Gwaine… I don't know what to say. Thank you!"

"Think nothing of it, my friend," Gwaine said as he patted Merlin on the back. "Now rest up - we've got a marathon trip to the Rising Sun to make the minute you're up for it."

Merlin nodded, unable to trust his voice.

Arthur told Gwaine he'd be with him in a bit and the knight left the two of them together. Arthur walked over and sat on the side of Merlin's bed.

"I'm sorry for what I said before. You're not an idiot."

Merlin sniffled. "No, I'm sorry. I over-reacted. It's just that, for my whole life…"

"I understand."

"Arthur? Do you think I should leave Camelot?"

Arthur chuckled. "Merlin, when you were sick, I demanded that you stay. I won't keep you from leaving - not if that's what you really want to do - but I still want you to stay more than anything."

"But do you think I _should_ stay? I mean, would it be better for the Kingdom?"

"Yes. I know it's hard for you, but others with magic are counting on you to break the trail, so to speak. Whatever trials we have to face with you here, it's not worth making their way harder."

"Mmm."

"Besides, if you left, what would you do? Live in cave like your father?" Arthur asked, gesturing to the little wooden dragon Merlin was turning over in his fingers. "I don't want to think of you like that, Merlin. I hate the fact that your family was ripped apart and your father doomed to isolation because of my family, and I won't see it happen again. If you do want to leave, you won't do so until I know you have a better plan in mind."

"All right."

"Fine, then. Get some rest. Now I have to go see what mess that drunken imbecile and his overenthusiastic dragon party have made of the Kingdom."

Merlin smiled. "I suppose being Court Sorcerer isn't all bad; I don't have to do your job."

"Ha! Wait until you get better!" And with that, Arthur left him.

But half way down the corridor, as Arthur's mind dwelled on Merlin's father, a conversation from years ago occurred to him.

And it gave him an idea.

.

* * *

><p>*China<p>

_**Author**__**'**__**s Notes: **_

_**xXMistressMadHatterXx **__- Hope this satisfied on the Stormaggedon front. I knew he was always going to be in this part, but I didn__'__t realize how much help he was going to be in starting the chapter for me._

_**Pagen Godess **__- Thanks for letting me rant in the last chapter._

_**Forever Day **__- Yes, there will be a party coming!_

_**Kez26**__ - Thanks for noticing the __"__fatherhood__"__ bit. That paragraph meant a lot to me for personal reasons._

_**Sarajm**__ - Thanks for the plug for the other fandom!_

_Thank you to all of you, as well as __**Aurora89, irezel and ArodieltheElfofRohan**__, for your fabulous reviews. And thanks too to everyone who favourited or put the story on alert - it__'__s wonderful to get such a great response with each chapter! And this story has now officially gotten more reviews than any of my other works! Cheers to everyone in the Merlin fandom! _

_Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter! _


	9. Chapter 9

****_Well, here it is: the last chapter. It's a whopper, so get a drink and a sandwich. _

_As always, hope you enjoy!_

**Chapter Nine **

**.**

* * *

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And so, in the unpredictable way life has (especially in a land of magic where dragons are relatively commonplace and death by Questing beast a legitimate concern), great and disastrous events in this case lead to a small, innocuous matter being brought full circle, and Arthur's forgotten resolution from years ago was finally to come to fruition.

Not without some hiccups of course, for Merlin would not be Merlin if he didn't find some way to upset all of Arthur's carefully orchestrated plans. However, since the problem was something Merlin could not help, and since he inadvertently provided Arthur with an even better solution, the King refrained from complaining about it too much in future years, generally leaving off except for every third Thursday of the month and the week leading up to WhitSunday.

The sticking point, as Arthur was to discover, was the nature of the celebration itself.

Perhaps the King should have guessed; Arthur didn't know if it was a holdover from all of his years of hiding, but Merlin - despite his propensity (in the King's eyes) to say something stupid on an almost hourly basis, or to fall down in spectacularly idiotic ways, thereby drawing all eyes to him - was not always comfortable being the center of attention. In fact, Merlin was often distinctly _un_comfortable, if the pained look and resemblance between his complexion and a ripe apple was anything to go by.

Then there was also the fact that, despite of his presence at the King's table as a member of the court and not a hapless servant standing at Arthur's elbow hungrily eyeing all of the food he wasn't allowed to eat, Merlin's enjoyment of such festivities had waned in the past few years as he was routinely scorned, snubbed or sucked up to due to his friendship with the King.

And, of course, finally there was the fact that Merlin's total experiences with feasts held specifically _for_ him as guest of honour consisted of being hit by a rock before one and being viciously attacked at the other… well, all things considered, Arthur felt like a fool for not realizing that a large gathering of people sitting down to a meal might possibly frighten his Court Sorcerer out of his already marginal wits.

Especially after witnessing the warlock's bloodless face as he sat through the Yuletide feast.

Arthur, if he had spent any time at all thinking of how his former servant was going to react, it was to smile in anticipation of Merlin's enjoyment. After weeks of being stuck in a sick room, who wouldn't enjoy a good feast, especially a holiday one? The Great Hall was resplendent with greenery and holly berries and mistletoe and looked warm and inviting in the light of hundreds of beeswax candles. The tables creaked and groaned with the sheer weight of food - apart from the traditional boar's head resting in its place of honour, there was goose and duck and swan, plates and plates of venison, mincemeat and honey fig pies, along with gleaming tureens of chestnut soup and sweet peas and buttered carrots, potato cakes and flampoyntes, not to mention plum puddings, frumenty and pears in sweet wine for dessert.

As minstrels sang cheerful carols, all around guests laughed merrily as they engaged in animated conversation while lifting goblets that glowed golden in the light in dozens of toasts to each others' good health. There were to be Mummers later, and dancing, and Arthur had just caught Gwaine's cheerful (and _loud_) assertion that he was going to be the Bean King that night "and then the festivities will _really_ get started", when he saw Merlin take one step across the Hall's threshold and come to a freezing halt.

The King was at his Court Sorcerer's side in an instant, while still managing it unobtrusively, remaining perfectly calm in order not to alert the entire room.

"Merlin? What is it? Are you ill?"

The sorcerer only trembled, eyes wide and fixated on the Hall full of people.

Gwaine sidled up in the next moment, with Percival right behind him. From various points across the Hall, Arthur caught the darting glances of Gaius, Gwen, Leon and Elyan - they knew something was amiss, but despite their desire to come over they knew to stay where they were, to keep the conversation in the room going and off the topic of what was happening at the entrance. Meanwhile, the two knights and Arthur gathered around Merlin and spoke normally as if they were just welcoming their friend back to his first festivities since being ill, but without even the need for words from Arthur they took positions that also formed a protective circle around the warlock, shielding him from general view as well as blocking _his _gaze from falling on the room at large.

Smiling, stance relaxed, still playing a part, Gwaine asked Merlin gently, "Is it the crowd, mate?"

"It's… it's just like…" Merlin panted.

Arthur cursed himself; why hadn't he thought of that? Dozens of people at table, feasting… it would have been just like this the night Merlin was attacked in Dyfrig. Fancier perhaps, but all of the elements were the same.

"I know, Merlin," Percival said. "I feel it too."

Arthur saw the way Merlin stared beseechingly at Percival, as if desperate for the hope that Percival's admittance meant the knight knew how to alleviate the sudden, awful coldness in his belly.

"Me and all," Gwaine confessed. He thrust the tankard ever present in his hand forward so that Merlin could look into it. "See that?"

"What?" Merlin asked.

Gwaine leaned forward, one hand cupping around his mouth as if he were whispering a great secret to Merlin. "It's water!" he confessed.

Merlin gaped. "Water?"

"Bloody _water! _Can you believe it?"

"_I_ can't," Arthur put in.

"But… but why?" Merlin asked.

Gwaine's dark eyes took on a serious cast. "Because I was drinking that night, Merlin. I drank their damned drugged wine and so I wasn't able to watch out for you."

"Gwaine…" Merlin began, pained at his friend's guilt, but just then Gwen strode regally up to them.

"Merlin! How wonderful to see you here tonight!" she announced, not loudly, but plainly enough that it reinforced the idea of a simple greeting to those around. She took his hands in hers and planted a chaste, brotherly kiss on his cheek, asking more quietly, "Are you well, Merlin? If you're not up to this… after all, you've been quite ill. There'd be no questions if you left, people would just assume you hadn't recovered enough yet."

For a moment, they thought Merlin would take Gwen up on her offer of a convenient explanation. But then he drew himself up taller, stiffening his resolve and announced he would stay. "I'm not going to be afraid of bloody feasts, of all things! It's the only time Arthur gives me enough peace to eat a full meal," he told them and they smiled in approval. And though his gaze as he looked around the room was still a bit wild-eyed and glassy, and he appeared as if he were going to keel over any moment, they proceeded to ignore it for his sake, as Gwen lead him over to sit by her and Gaius.

But the night was hard on Merlin. Arthur didn't fail to notice the stiff way he held himself, the fake grin he gave to the people beside him that made it look as though the sorcerer was suffering from some sort of rictus rather than smiling, the fact that he was drinking more than eating yet in no way becoming more at ease. And though Arthur could not leave the feast until the end, he heard the next morning of how Gwaine and Percival had had to carry the warlock to bed when he passed out of the stairs, the weakened man finally collapsing half due to drink and half due to the exhausting effects of sitting for hours in rigid fear. The two men (apparently wracked by unnecessary guilt and maybe even suffering from bad memories of their own, proving Merlin wasn't the only victim), stayed the night and were there for Merlin several times when he awoke screaming with nightmares.

"So…" Arthur said to his co-conspiring "Give the Idiot a Birthday" committee the next morning, "Feasts then… _Right. Out. _I presume?"

The others - the surviving members of the Round Table minus one, who was currently dosed to the gills with Gaius's sleeping draught - nodded grimly in agreement.

"But what can we do to celebrate?" Elyan asked. "Feasts are out and Merlin doesn't care about Tournaments or watching skills competitions."

"Let's take him to the tavern!" Gwaine suggested.

"I think after last night he's had enough drinking for a bit," Arthur said warningly.

"But other than those minstrels and mummers from last night, there's not much we can get in the way of entertainment at this time of year," Leon said. (Though, truthfully, he would not have mentioned knife-throwers even in summer, considering the tragic events that last time Arthur ever celebrated his own birthday.)

"What about that bard who used to sing the Ballad about the Green Knight?" Gwaine asked. He loved that one.

"I think his last audience pelted him to death with rotten turnips at having to hear that awful piece one more time," Leon muttered.

"You're just jealous," Gwaine told him.

"Children, please," Arthur said. "We're here to discuss a party for Merlin, not argue over the dubious qualities of wholly inaccurate drivel."

"I think it should be something simple," Gwen said. "The celebration, I mean."

"I agree. Let the party suit the man," Arthur replied.

"Arthur!" Gwen remonstrated. "You're trying to do something nice here, remember."

"Yes, Queenie, this could be the one noble thing you ever do. Don't muck it up too badly."

"Rotten turnips give me an idea. Perhaps Merlin might be entertained by throwing some at a certain Knight in the stocks? Call it a party game of sorts."

"How'd you ever get voted King with an attitude like that?" Gwaine complained.

"You don't vote for Kings."

"How'd you become King then?"

"The Lady of the Lake…. _Oh, never mind, you idiot!__"_Arthur yelled in exasperation. (1)

"Arthur, I'm fully behind your idea to give Merlin a birthday celebration, but I do have patients to see to."

"My apologies, Gaius. You're quite right - let's return to the matter at hand. Personally, I agree with Gwen. The party should be small and simple. If there's one goal we should keep central in our minds when trying to cheer up a friend, it should be to not unduly terrify him."

"So a small gathering then?" Gwen wished to clarify. "Perhaps just all of us and Llacheu?"

Arthur smiled. "Actually, I have one more special guest in mind."

-x-

The first day of January dawned wet and miserable. The skies were grey and a cold, raw drizzle was turning the snowdrifts to colourless slush.

"Well, now, Llacheu my lad," the Court Sorcerer said to the little Prince, "this just won't do at all!"

The baby looked up at him and blinked, then turned to look at the window. "Foo?"

The warlock waved a hand at the window. Merlin grinned at the baby and held a finger to his lips. "Shhh, don't tell!"

Outside, the rain changed into a soft fall of fat, fluffy white snowflakes.

-x-

The first person to know of Merlin's plans (or at least the first person to know who could actually tell someone about it) was young Llacheu's favourite nursery-maid, Rannilt. A sweet-natured peasant girl, and charming in a shy way, she had a round face, honey-coloured hair and a rather large crush on Sir Percival.

"Ah, Rannilt, there you are! Just the person I wanted to see. Come and help me dress the Prince in his warmest clothes."

"But why Lord Merlin?" the girl asked, already doing his bidding.

"Because I've got a big surprise planned for him!"

"A surprise, Lord Merlin?" Rannilt looked worried. She was not at all afraid of the Court Sorcerer - a fact which endeared her to her King and Queen - but she was young and a little timid, and so anything that altered her routine with the infant prince made her feel very unsure.

"That's right. We're going to have some fun, him and me. And why don't you come along too, Rannilt?"

"But the Queen…"

"We'll leave her a note."

Rannilt bit her lip, nervous over her sudden involvement in this impromptu kidnapping. However, when Merlin smiled at her and asked, "Have you ever been skating, Rannilt?" curiosity got the better of her. (2)

-x-

Speaking in terms of pure aesthetics, Merlin's quickly hobbled together contraption would win no praise. However, it fit its purpose down to the ground.

"Well, what do you think?"

Llacheu wrinkled his nose and looked at it with some doubt. The thing looked like a child's sled cut in half - leaving like a miniature chair with runners - and with the rod and handle put on the wrong end. Instead of pulling the infant along behind as one walked, a person was meant to push it in front of them.

Merlin snorted. "Just like your father…" he muttered, but his cheerful grin belied his complaining. "Give it a chance, my imperial highness. Wait till you see it in action!"

With that, Merlin picked up the strange push chair and carried it in one arm while Llacheu dangled like a sack of potatoes in the other and off they went.

-x-

Creating the ice was barely the work of a moment. A hand to the ground and the moisture was drawn from the slick, wet stones of the courtyard and pulled together to form a small skating rink. Merlin then lined the patch of ice with a ringed bank of snow to separate it from the newly dried stones so that people would know where it was safe to walk.

"I know some people won't like it," he told Llacheu as he bundled the baby into the push chair, placing a bar across the infant's lap so he wouldn't fall out, "but I'm tired of worrying about such nonsense. I've been stuck inside for weeks and weeks, so now I'm going to enjoy myself and have some fun with you."

Llacheu reached up to grab at Merlin's nose, which he suddenly found fascinating. "Rurr!"

Merlin snickered. "I'm glad you agree. So what do you say? Are you ready for a ride?"

Llacheu jiggled up and down. "Gah min!"

"I'll take that as a yes."

Merlin put on his skates and got behind Llacheu and grabbed hold of the handle. As the warlock pushed off with his right foot, the clouds cleared and the crisp, shining light of a perfect winter's morning came out. In long flowing glides, Merlin moved faster and faster, thrilling with pleasure at the joy of speed and the warmth of exertion and the flood of childhood memories coming back to him. For the first time in a long time he felt his heart lift within his chest. Up and down the ice they flew and Merlin the warlock laughed with utter abandon at the sight of Llacheu spreading his arms open wide and squealing with baby bliss at the breeze against his tiny face.

And though neither knew it at the time, it was from this one innocent moment of enjoyment that large changes for the better would start to flow.

It started small. To be precise, it started with two small heads bobbing behind the rink's wall of snow, popping up to gape open-mouthed and then dropping down again a second later in fear of being spotted.

Merlin came to a stop. "Feel free to join in," he called out, a grin tugging at his cheek. "We don't mind."

Two blond heads poked up over the bank. Merlin recognized Urfrey and Aelith, two of Rannilt's youngest siblings. Turning to each other, they discussed it between them without saying a word to the sorcerer, as if he were a puzzling alien creature and they were debating the merits of getting closer.

Urfrey, who Merlin guessed was about six, asked with the hope ringing clear in his voice, "Can we really join you and the little Prince, Lord Merlin?"

"Of course. Did Rannilt tell you to bring skates?"

With gap-toothed grins that very nearly matched, brother and sister each raised a hand to display a pair of bone skates.

"C'mon on, then!" Merlin said, and waved them over the snow bank. Tumbling over it like a couple of wriggly puppies, the two fell at Llacheu's feet, causing the baby to giggle.

"Ignore him," Merlin told the two. "Now let's skate."

And they did. Scrambling clumsily hither and thither on too-stiff legs with arms nearly straight out to the side, they still managed to go back and forth and all over the ice, circling around the sorcerer all the while trying to win Llacheu's attention and make him giggle again. The Prince however, wanted to go back to his fast ride and so Urfrey and Aelith hung on behind Merlin and shrieked with delight as they played 'crack the whip'.

It wasn't long before they were joined by Rannilt, who had gathered a couple of her young friends. And then more children - utterly powerless against the irresistible sight of so much fun being had without them - ignored their parents' cautions and clambered onto the ice, skates or no. And soon their parents, as well as others, were helplessly drawn to the scene as well, spontaneously guided by sounds of raucous merriment.

-x-

Inside the castle, Gwen was just waking up. Something was different. The light, she realized. It was much brighter than she was used to upon awakening, and higher in the sky. Wondering that the baby had let her sleep so late, she went into the nursery only to find a note resting in Llacheu's cradle.

_He__'__s with me in the courtyard. Come and join us. Merlin. _

Bemused, Gwen went to the window and looked out. She clasped a hand over her mouth in amazement and then dashed back to the King's chambers to yank on Arthur's arm and pull him out of bed, like a little girl trying to get her parents to _come and see, come and see!_

"Arthur! Get up! You simply cannot miss this!"

Arthur tried to focus the one bleary eye that was open and Gwen had a sudden appreciation for Merlin's talents as a servant. Even after three years, she still found it a struggle to get Arthur to a point of coherency in the morning.

"Arthur, I'm telling you, you must see this!"

"Whazzat?"

She smiled and tugged him over towards the window. "Look at that."

"What in the world… is that _Merlin?__"_

Gwen sighed contentedly. "It is. And they're actually enjoying his company. Isn't it marvelous?"

Arthur smiled with satisfaction, more pleased than he could have imagined. Well, at least until he saw who was with Merlin.

"_Did that idiot take Llacheu out with him without telling us?__"_

-x-

Though Arthur would spend the rest of his life denying it - it being apparently a cripplingly girly flair for party-planning ("It's political strategy and use of resources, that's all," the King claimed) - it was his idea to move the party outside and to have the kitchens make enough refreshments for all of the people gathered.

Merlin was in too much of a whirl to notice what was going on until the tables were set out and being laid with cakes and honey rolls and mulled cider and other treats. (To be fair though, the warlock was preoccupied with getting the shy Percival onto a pair of skates so he could join the fair Rannilt - with whom the large knight was just as smitten with as the maid in question was with him - and so was very distracted.)

"Arthur!" Merlin called and skated over to the King (having left Llacheu with Percival, since Rannilt loved babies and Percival could balance by pushing the little chair), "when did you get here?"

"Sometime ago, you idiot."

"I didn't see you."

"I figured. And you call me unobservant!"

Gwaine skated by them just them, chasing a teasing Katherine, the red-headed tavern maid from the Rising Sun, with a lecherous look. "Happy birthday, Mate!" he said, slapping Merlin on the back so hard Arthur had to reach out and steady him.

"Happy Birthday….?" Merlin turned a perplexed gaze to Arthur but before he could ask if Gwaine had been at the ale, Leon, arm in arm with his lady Elizabeth, skated elegantly by and said, "Happy Birthday, Merlin." Elizabeth, both refined and warm-hearted, wished him, "Many Happy Returns, Merlin." The warlock smiled, pleased that Leon's lady had finally grown comfortable enough around him to drop the "Lord", but he still didn't understand what was going on.

"Arthur," he said, "I don't understand. Why are people wishing me a happy birthday?" He cocked his head in puzzlement, noticing the servants at their task for the first time. "And why are tables been laid outside?"

"Hmmm, so dense today aren't we? Well, I'll explain it to you, Merlin. Today is the first of January."

"Court astrologer tell you that, did he?"

"_Mer_lin, you idiot, we don't even _have_ a Court astrologer!"

"So it was Geoffrey then?"

"Shut up, Merlin. I'm trying to do something for you."

"Really? And you're doing it so nicely too. Telling me to shut up and everything."

Arthur sighed windily. "As I was saying, today is the first of January. Does anything strike you as special about that date?"

"Not particularly."

"Not even that it happens to be a day that falls less than a fortnight after the Winter Solstice?"

Suddenly a dim memory of a conversation from years ago ghosted across Merlin's consciousness. One eyebrow shot up as an idea began to form.

"A day when say maybe when the horrible event of your birth might have been inflicted on your poor, unsuspecting mother?" Arthur continued, smiling gently now. The look in Merlin's eyes - surprised and happy and almost too afraid to hope that this was what he thought it was - filled Arthur with immense pleasure.

"Sire…?" Merlin asked softly.

Arthur raised his voice slightly to proclamation volume: "Merlin Emrys, of Ealdor and Camelot, I hereby declare that today, the first day of the month of January, is now and forever more to be celebrated as the anniversary of your birth. Happy Birthday, my friend! May you have many, many more!"

Merlin, who had been staring at his King, hadn't noticed the audience gathering around behind him and was startled badly when they began to clap and cheer.

-x-

It was a day of marvels and a day of simple joys, or so it seemed to Arthur. Certainly it was a wild success as a party, at the very least. Dozens of scenes left their indelible memories that day: Merlin laughing happily with the townspeople; the comical look of terror on Percival's face when Gwen took Llacheu away for his nap and powerful knight was left to make his own lumbering attempts at skating; the dour baker's wife smiling and starting off a round of song; Merlin winning the skating race between him, Gwaine and Elyan and Merlin making sculptures out of ice and snow, magically making it appear as if they were flowing straight out of his hands. There were crystal-like dragons and griffins and strange creatures Arthur had never even heard of, like the incredibly tall and gangly spotted thing he called a camelopard. (3)

"A what?"

"Camelopard. It was in one of Gaius's books."

Arthur was going to inquire further, but then a humungous snow creature with a ridiculously long snout bounded by, covered in a wild gang of children clinging to its sides.

"And what was that?" Arthur demanded with a shout.

"An elephant," Merlin informed him, saying it as if it were something everyone should know.

"You're making these things up."

"No, I'm not! Just because your education has been frightfully constrained doesn't mean everyone's has."

Aithusa stopped the argument, stomping around them like he was on parade and singing,

"_I__'__m a rover, seldom sober,_

_I__'__m a rover of high degree!_

_And when I__'__m drinking, I__'__m always thinking,_

_How to gain my love__'__s company!__"__ (4) _

"Gwaine!" Merlin yelled and those around started to hoot with laughter. "Did you teach him that song?"

"I may have done. I can't recall," the knight said.

"I'll teach you to corrupt my dragon!"

Gwaine yelped. "Aithusa! Protect me, my friend!"

"I'll save you, Gwaine!" Aithusa declared, galloping over.

"Halt!" Gwaine ordered Merlin. "You may be a powerful sorcerer, but _I_ have a mighty dragon to protect me!"

"Was that your mighty dragon giggling just now?" Leon asked.

Aithusa looked around from behind Gwaine and spotted his foe. "Oh, Gwaine! It's Father. I can't protect you against _Father!__"_

"Nonsense, mate! You just haven't got enough cider into you yet. That's the wonderful thing about being drunk - then you stop worrying about listening to stupid nobles. Here, have another tankard."

"What!" Merlin bellowed. "Gwaine, you irredeemable reprobate! You're not getting him drunk again? And just _who_ are you calling a stupid noble?"

"_Lord_ Merlin," Gwaine smirked.

"_Sir_ Gwaine," Merlin answered back.

"Oi, you two!" Arthur demanded, joining into the act. "Since when did being a noble become a bad thing, you ungrateful rabble? See if I ever elevate the two of you again!"

Gwaine snorted. "If you promote Merlin again, you'll have to make him bloody King!"

Arthur shot the two men a glare that sent them both reeling back.

"I think I'm going to throw in my lot with you two," Merlin said to Gwaine and Aithusa.

"Good choice, mate! Now here's a little ditty I know about a jolly butcher…"

Arthur chuckled as the two draped an arm over each other's shoulder and stomped along behind Aithusa as the dragon started on his parade again and all three started singing about a sailor who "roved it out one morning in search of company". And, in fitting with the merriment of the day, they soon had a large following behind them. (5)

The best moment of the day, however, was the arrival of Kilgharrah, for on his back, along with Gaius who had gone as escort, was Hunith. Merlin stood frozen where Arthur and Gwen had lead him just outside the castle, his mouth gaping open like a little boy's and his eyes glistening with tears.

"Mam?"

Hunith hurriedly dismounted from Kilgharrah (who was smiling, despite his former protests about "not being a horse"), and her gaze immediately narrowed in on her son.

"Merlin!" she cried and ran to him. "Oh, Merlin!" Arthur and Gwen and numerous others all watched with soppy grins on their faces as mother and son embraced.

-x-

And so it was that Merlin the warlock was given a birthday. Unbeknownst to all, Arthur had indeed picked the correct day, but though all would remain ignorant of this fact, it did not matter because, though he had been Court Sorcerer for three years, whenever Merlin looked back he reflected that _this_ was the first day when he truly felt accepted as such.

For it was on this day that a simple and rather more human magic took place: the people truly _saw_ their Court Sorcerer for the first time. They saw a man who entertained the children and chuckled when a baby spread honey on his face, who laughed when he got hit with snowballs and got rosy cheeks in the cold and blushed when he got a birthday kiss from Katherine the saucy tavern-maid. A man who was as grateful for a jar of preserved peaches as he was for the fine new steed the King had bought him to replace the one lost in Dyfrig.

A man who cried when he got to see his mother.

Therefore, as the day went on and the people observed Merlin, their magical protector, it became harder and harder to see him as an evil sorcerer. It did not change every mind, nor give reassurance to those who wanted a powerful and mysterious sorcerer ready to kill their enemies, but it did cause the majority to dismiss most of their fears.

"Do you think they enjoyed it?" an exhausted and more-than-a-little-tipsy Merlin asked Arthur as his King helped him to bed and bent to pull off the warlock's boots.

"Did who enjoy it?"

"The people!"

"The point was for you to enjoy it, you idiot."

"It wasn't though, was it? Not entirely, I mean."

"Yes, actually. It was to give you a birthday - something I wanted to do for years - and to say thank you for deciding to stay on as Court Sorcerer. The townspeople joining in was just a lucky happenstance."

"As was you seizing the opportunity that let them," Merlin smirked, not quite as drink-addled as Arthur had assumed.

Arthur snorted and threw Merlin's foot down. "If you're still that sober that you can work that out, you can take off your own bloody boots."

"Oh, please, Arthur! I could get used to having a King as a servant. And it's a nice start to paying off your debt for all the years I did it for you."

Arthur rolled his eyes but gave in. "Don't get used to it, imbecile. This is a one time thing. And it's only because you over-tired yourself. You may be mostly better, but don't think I didn't see how shaky your legs were getting by the end of the night."

"Pff! That's just the effects of that stuff from the north Gwaine got a hold of. What did he call it? Whiskey?"

"Uh huh. Let's see how you feel tomorrow when that 'whiskey' kicks in."

"No, really, Arthur. I'm ready to go back to work tomorrow."

"Don't even think about it! Your mother is visiting. Spend some time with her."

"Ha! I think your son has enchanted her. She's not going to want to visit with old me when she's got little Llacheu to make a time over."

Arthur smiled; he'd been extraordinarily pleased at Hunith's effusive praise of Llacheu and the baby had taken to her as quickly as he had Merlin. (The whole event had taken some of the sting out of how complacently Hunith had apparently taken to riding Kilgharrah - a thing Arthur had only done once and had sworn he would never do again.)

"But you think the people did enjoy it?" Merlin asked again, circling the topic back around to what it had been.

"Yes, I think they enjoyed it. The children especially."

"I think that's where our hope will lie."

"I think so too."

"It's the start of a new year, you know," Merlin said with a sleepy smile.

Arthur snorted again. "Now who's got the big head?" he asked. "The new year doesn't start for three months yet. We're not going to change it just because you had a birthday." (6)

Merlin closed his eyes, still grinning. "We'll see who's right in the end, prat."

.

* * *

><p><em>1) Sorry, rampant, utterly shameless stealing again. I'll leave you to guess the source of this one, though.<em>

_2) According to Wikipedia, skating has been around for thousands of years and likely originated with the Finns, who would have used skate blades made from animal bones. However, the first skate to use a metal blade (using a thin strip of copper to fit it to the underside of a shoe) was found in Scandinavia and dated to 200 AD, so they would have been around in Merlin's time as well._

_3) A giraffe. It was originally called this because people thought it was the offspring of a camel and a leopard._

_4) The title of this song is "I'm a Rover" and, while I believe it's an old folk tune (though I doubt it's from the sixth century), I'm quoting the lyrics used by the Newfoundland group "Great Big Sea". There are some videos of them doing it at concerts posted on Youtube in case you're interested. I find the CD version is a little more lively, but it's worth checking out because - seriously - I dare you to hear this song and NOT think of Gwaine._

_5) "The Jolly Butcher" is another song by Great Big Sea, and like most sea shanties, seems to involve a sailor looking for company. However, in this song, said sailor gets caught out at the end! Perhaps Gwaine should take it as a warning._

_6) Traditionally, the New Year began in March, sometimes on the 1st, but most often on either the 21st (the vernal equinox) or the 25th, (the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary or "Lady Day"). In England, Wales, Ireland and the future United States, March 25th was the first day of the year until the adoption of the Gregorian calendar in 1752. Admittedly, the dates don't mean much in the world of Merlin where anachronisms abound and being too historically accurate can actually take you out of canon, so basically just think of this as me using minor trivia for my own purposes._

_**Author's message:**  
><em>

**_Well, that's it, I guess. I'm thrilled to have finished it, yet sad that it's over because it was a hell of a lot of fun to write! But now hopefully I can get back to "Little Bird" as well as start the character piece that's been kicking around my head the last week.  
><em>**

**_In any case, I want to thank each and every one of you - reviewers, people who put the story or me as an author on their favourite lists or story alerts, and even just those of you who simply read it - I'm grateful to everyone who took the time to look at my work and I sincerely hope you got as much pleasure reading it as I did writing it. Thank you.  
><em>**


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